


Running West

by fab_fan



Series: Through the Years [4]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arguing, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Drama, F/F, Horses, Idiots in Love, Romance, The Author Regrets Everything, They're still soldiers, This is What Happens When Author Remembers Westerns Exist, Wild West AU, author needs coffee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: “Come out. Hands up where I can see ‘em. Use a seed and I’ll fire b’fore ya hit the first note.”Scylla closed her eyes, preparing herself for what was about to happen.“Ya got three seconds, and two’ve already passed.”Goddess, she could be impatient at times.Pursing her lips, Scylla slowly raised her hands and climbed to her feet. She carefully spun around, coming face to face with her captor.Perched on a tan coated filly, all blue coat and sweat stained bandana, unmistakable insignia pinned to her arms and brim of her kepi hat low across her brow, Raelle Collar held her winchester rifle at eye level, a speckle of sweat glinting off the metal, the business end trained directly on the brunette’s chest.Scylla exhaled, showing her palms up near her shoulders, “Hello, Raelle.”-------Because absolutely no one asked for MFS during the late 1800s. Wild West Witches? Yep. It happened.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: Through the Years [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065368
Comments: 64
Kudos: 301





	1. Chapter 1

The sun beat down on the dusty plains, harsh and hot as hell on its worst days. A light breeze offered no respite, instead kicking up the dirt into burning eyes and causing lungs to choke and cough. The sharp edges of the brush sliced into exposed flesh and poked through thin cotton sleeves as Scylla crouched down further behind the craggy rock. Her chest heaved for air, the scorching temperature and never ending run doing nothing to alleviate the gasps. 

It had all gone to hell in a handbasket in no time at all.

And it was all her fault.

She rested the back of her head against the rock, not caring that bits of gravel scattered into her tangled wild mane. She tried to calm her pounding heart. Take stock of the situation and come up with a plan.

She needed a plan.

She was close, she could feel it. Close to escaping. Close to being free from her pursuers.

A little rest, that was all. Catch her breath, figure out where she was, and maybe even let the posse following her take a wrong turn trying to catch up, and she would be home free.

The sound of a gun cocking caused her breath to stumble.

This was why she never let herself feel optimism. 

And she shouldn’t have had relations with someone who grew up tracking game and people.

“Come out. Hands up where I can see ‘em. Use a seed and I’ll fire b’fore ya hit the first note.”

Scylla closed her eyes, preparing herself for what was about to happen.

“Ya got three seconds, and two’ve already passed.” 

Goddess, she could be impatient at times.

Pursing her lips, Scylla slowly raised her hands and climbed to her feet. She carefully spun around, coming face to face with her captor.

Perched on a tan coated filly, all blue coat and sweat stained bandana, unmistakable insignia pinned to her arms and brim of her kepi hat low across her brow, Raelle Collar held her winchester rifle at eye level, a speckle of sweat glinting off the metal, the business end trained directly on the brunette’s chest. 

Scylla exhaled, showing her palms up near her shoulders, “Hello, Raelle.”

Raelle’s jaw ticked, “On your knees. Keep your hands high.”

“You always did like me in that position.”

“Knees. Now.” 

Slowly, almost making a show of it, Scylla lowered herself to her knees, not letting her eyes leave the crystal clear blue she had kissed awake not even two days ago. 

Had it been only two days ago before her whole world turned upside down? Before someone stuck a stick of dynamite into what she had unwittingly created, into a life she found herself enjoying more than she should, and blew it all to smithereens?

Raelle carefully slid off the saddle, keeping her gun aimed at the other woman. She reached into the pouch hanging along her horse’s flank and plucked out a stretch of rope.

“Kinky.” Scylla quirked an eyebrow, “Didn’t think we’d get to that.”

“Shut up.” Raelle barked, swiftly moving over to her. She stepped behind Scylla, roughly grabbing one wrist and wrenching it down. 

The dried out rope dug into Scylla’s skin, and she grit her teeth, “We're actually doing this?”

“Don’t talk. Keep yer mouth shut.”

“Raelle….”

“I said don’t talk.” Raelle grasped her other wrist.

Scylla sighed, “You believed everything they told you.”

“That the woman I let in my bed is Spree?” The rope binding her hands tightened as the voice grew harsh. Yet, Scylla could detect the faintest trickle of sadness in the anger. “Lied to me about everythin’?”

“I didn’t lie to you.” Scylla tried to look over her shoulder, but Raelle was already moving, “Not about everything. Not about us.”

Raelle scoffed, holding her rifle in one hand as she refused to meet Scylla’s gaze, “You used me. I loved you, and you…”

“I love you.” Scylla interrupted her forcefully. She raised her chin, working to find her eyes, “I love you, Raelle. I never lied about that.”

Raelle shook her head, lips a thin grim line, “You played me like a fiddle. Got me to trust you. Let you in. I was your fool.”

“You were my lover.” Scylla countered. “Yes...I had you as a mark. It started out wrong. But...it didn’t stay that way. I fell for you. That was real.”

Raelle finally looked at her, face so hard it bordered on shattering, one small strike, and it would crumble like the dust swirling around them, “I was nothin’ more’n the weak dandy too stupid to see what was right in front of me. Wha’ ev’ryone told me.”

Scylla’s chin quivered with the sureness of her words as she shook her head, “That’s not true. You’re powerful, Raelle. Powerful and smart. You have to believe what I’m telling you.”

“Get up. The Sarg will be here soon.”

Scylla stared at her, trying to read her face, her posture, anything that would tell her Raelle wasn’t so lost in her own anger and doubt that she could listen to reason. Listen to logic and love.

Raelle gave her nothing except chipped fingers around a civilian weapon and shoulders so tense it was a wonder her spine didn’t snap in two.

Scrambling clumsily to her feet, Scylla tilted sideways, almost losing her balance at the awkward angle and offset balance. A hand shot out, steadying her, and both paused at the familiar touch. Realizing, Raelle pulled back as if burned, fingers flexing as she let them drop to her side, tips skimming the streak of muted gold shimmering morosely against trousers the color of the afternoon sky.

A uniform she shouldn’t be wearing.

She wasn’t going to listen. Scylla had seen her like this a few times before. So caught up in her emotions and mind she needed time to settle down. That usually meant Scylla patiently riding it out, listening to her go on about whatever silver tongued insult a High Atlantic, one of the elites too enslaved to their ego to believe they were shipped out to the sloppy battlegrounds of the west instead of sipping tea in their elegant parlors in the east, launched at her, unaware their high and mighty views were about to get them punched by someone they saw as inferior by birth and name.

Sometimes, with a well timed kiss and stroke of her hand, she could distract the Private enough to get her to forget whatever was bothering her until she was once again laughing and offering her an apple she’d snatched from the supplies in the quartermaster’s office meant for the officers.

That wasn’t going to happen today.

Raelle wasn’t willing to hear what was in Scylla’s heart. Hear how it beat only for her.

Scylla needed to try one more trick she had up her sleeve.

The reason she made sure to be assigned to a post in the far reaches of civilization in the first place.

“If you don’t believe that I love you, believe that you’re in danger.” Scylla quietly begged.

Raelle clenched her jaw, shifting her rifle from one hand to the other. 

“The Camarilla are here.” Scylla implored her to listen. “They’re here, and they are going to attack. Kill every witch in the area.” She took a tiny step forward, stopping at the blonde’s grimace, “They’ll kill you. Please, listen to me. I was wrong to not tell you who I was. I’m sorry. I was scared and...and I didn’t know what to do. But, please, Rae, they’re here, and they are strong.”

“The Camarilla ain’t been seen in these parts in months. They’ve moved north.”

“They want you to think that. They’ve been here the whole time. Waiting.”

“I’m supposed to believe you? A Spree? A liar?”

“Damn it, Raelle.” Scylla’s voice cracked, “The Camarilla are about to hunt you all down and kill every last one of us. The Spree tried to warn you. The civilians don’t care. They won’t protect you. The Camarilla will burn you at the stake, and I am _not_ going to watch you die.” Her body shook with the need to make Raelle understand. “You know the Army will let you die and not give a damn about it. You’re from the Cession, Raelle. You shouldn’t even be in that uniform. The Army isn’t listening. You may not like the Spree, but we’re trying to protect witches.” A tear clung to the corner of her eye, threatening to fall, “Look at yourself. They have you using civilian guns because civilians told them to buy them. Guns you’re not even allowed to use except against other witches. Witches have no say in any part of our lives. Not even in how we die.”

“You kill civilians.” Raelle ground out. “People like my Pa.”

“Raelle,”

“You gonna start killin’ half-breeds, too?”

“No!” Scylla struggled against the rope, desperately wanting to reach out to her, the soldier’s wary stance the only thing keeping her feet from closing the physical distance between them, “Raelle, witches are dying every day. Being burned, shot, hanged. The Army lets it happen so the brass can keep their cushy seats on the coast. Keep the rest of us in chains and lead us to death so those in power can keep living in fancy mansions with silver spoons and feasts for days.” She sucked in a breath, “You’ll die.”

“We all have to go sometime.”

“No, not like this.” Her lips trembled. She couldn’t mean that. Not now. It was the anger talking. It had to be the anger talking. “I know you had that stupid plan to get yourself killed, but this isn’t worth it. Not like this. Think about Tally...Bellweather…”

“Don’t say their names!” Raelle roared.

“We are all going to die!” Scylla shouted back. “The Army isn’t listening! I never wanted to lie to you. You know what I’m saying is true. You have to believe me.”

“Last time I believed you, I found out my girl wasn’ even my girl at all.”

“I’ve always been your girl, Raelle. I still am.” She blinked back tears, “The Spree wanted you. They wanted you, and I didn’t give you to them. I don’t know why or what or anything. I only knew I wanted to keep you safe. That includes not letting your anger and stubborness blind you to the fact we are all in danger.”

“Quiet!” Raelle cried out, “Be quiet!” A shaky hand pinched the bridge of her nose before gesturing recklessly, “Quartermaine is on her way. They’re gonna take you back, an’ if you wan’ to tell her all this…”

“They’re going to kill me.”

Raelle’s mouth snapped shut.

“You know as well as I do what they will do to Spree. To a traitor.” 

Raelle paced a few steps, anxiousness causing her shoulders to roll back and forth, “If you have information…”

“They haven’t listened yet. They won’t listen now. They will kill me before my boots even hit the ground.”

Raelle tossed her rifle to her other hand before dropping her palm to the colt buckled to her waist, fingers fidgeting with the strap of the cover.

“Look at me and tell me you believe you’re safe. That the Army won’t send you out to die because they’re too stubborn to listen to something other than their own thoughts.” She gulped, “Look at me and tell me you don’t think they’ll kill us both.” 

Raelle didn’t.

The sound of hoofbeats in the distance cracked like lightning in the air.

Scylla’s eyes slid over, seeing the faint outline of a unit galloping their way. 

It was too late.

The Army was here.

Swallowing down her fear, Scylla whispered, “I love you, Raelle. Please, believe that. I love you.”

They were all going to die, and it was because the Army was too blinded by its own ambition and reckless ineptitude. 

The Army killed her parents.

They were going to kill her and her lover, too.

A mumbled curse brushed against her ear, and calloused hands ran across her wrists as Raelle jumped behind her.

“What are you doing?” Scylla’s gaze snapped back over her shoulder.

“Take the horse. Couple miles west is a town. Get a new pony and keep going west. Don’t tell no-one where you’re goin’.” Raelle tore at the knots, loosening the rope enough to push it off the older witch.

“What?” Scylla automatically rubbed at her slightly raw skin, “Raelle?”

Raelle held out her rifle and unclipped her holster cover, drawing out her revolver. She motioned for Scylla to take the larger gun before gripping the smaller one by the muzzle, “Best bet is to head into the Cession or go all the way west to the coast. You stay in the Cession, there’s a tribe ‘bout ten days ride southeast of here. You’ll know when ya find ‘em. You tell ‘em Collar said you need help. They’ll get you as far as the gulf. Can hop a boat to anywhere if you want. Mexico. Caribbean. Anywhere.”

“Raelle, no.” 

Raelle held up the pistol, butt end facing Scylla, “Smack me as hard as ya can. Temple’ll knock me out. Best strike. Leave a mark.”

“No,” Scylla refused to take the gun.

“Ain’t no time, Scyl.” Raelle pushed the gun at her.

“Come with me.” Scylla batted the gun away, “We can go together.”

“Can’ do that.” Raelle frowned sadly, “Ya gotta go.”

“I’m not running away and leaving you here. Even if they think I escaped, they will blame you.”

“My Unit’ll vouch for me.”

“The Camarilla?”

A shrug, “Guess we’ll find out.”

“No, no. This is stupid. You make _the worst_ plans, Raelle Collar.”

“Only one we got; ain’t no time to make more.”

The horses were getting closer.

“Can windstrike me, if you’d rather, but ya know how Work is frowned upon ‘round here. An’ have ta explain ya not wearing a collar.” Her eyebrow ticked up, “Might actually make it better, using Work.”

The civilians were uncomfortable seeing anything resembling witchcraft, remnants of the Camarilla’s hold on the area and ingrained prejudice and greed, and quite a few towns outlawed it with the full support of the federal administration, even for the military. It was why the soldiers were walking around with revolvers and rifles. Easier to blend in and not cause a stir than with scourges and seeds. Even if they weren’t allowed to use any of them.

And, the folks making and selling the guns weren’t too upset, either.

Civilian fear and profits paired with military weakness for their Accord granted masters put soldiers in an untenable position that was quickly becoming unsurvivable with the Camarilla’s continued war. 

Scylla gingerly took the gun. “I’m not windstriking you.” 

Raelle offered her a small grin and tapped her temple, “Make it count.”

Scylla looked down at the gun, then up at the blonde. “I love you.”

The grin turned hauntingly heartbreaking.

Dropping the guns, Scylla closed the distance between them and gripped the back of Raelle’s head. She knocked her cap almost off her head as their lips met, hot and greedy and trying to take every last sip and taste before the inevitable occurred. 

Scylla felt everything in her soul.

She couldn’t let the Camarilla and Army take this.

Breaking away, she whispered feverishly under her breath.

Raelle’s eyes widened before rolling in the back of her head, knees buckling. She dropped, quick reflexes having her land in Scylla’s arms instead of collapsing to the ground. Peeking up to see how far away the posse was, Scylla dragged Raelle over to the horse. With a grunt, she picked her up and shoved her over the horse’s back and onto the saddle. 

With a few flicks of her wrists and fast feet, the guns were tucked away in the pouches and she was settling behind Raelle. She gently eased the sleeping girl against her front, wrapping her arms around her. 

“I love you.” she whispered in her ear before taking the reins and tapping her heel into a strong flank. “We’ll go somewhere safe.”

The horse took off, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in its wake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue eyes popped open.
> 
> “Wha’ the hell?” Raelle rasped, nearly falling off, Scylla’s quick reflexes saving her from tumbling sideways. 
> 
> “Hello, Raelle. Did you sleep well?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for more. You got more. Enjoy!

Scylla held the reins steady, the horse gliding along at a slow pace. The sun was still high in the sky, causing the dirt beneath the filly’s hooves to bake into solid bricks, cracks appearing in their wake like tiny rivulets of waves in the dusty reddish brown sea of clay. She could feel the skin of her face starting to turn pink, and the frayed leather of the reins felt hot and cutting against her palms. Still, she stayed seated, trying to move as little as possible so as not to jostle the body leaned back against her chest too much. To not wake the slumbering soldier wrapped in her arms. Her hands rested on the edge of the saddle, and she couldn’t help but let her thumb brush against the wool of the blue coat, skipping along the brass button and imagining the soft belly underneath. Skin she had peppered with laughing kisses only days ago. That she had pillowed her chin on as she peered up into passionate desirous eyes that darkened from light blue to almost black as she was pulled up into a searing kiss that would have made her toes curl if she was that sort of girl. 

How had everything gone so wrong in so little time?

Less than a week ago, she was stealing a kiss from this soldier and doing her part to help the Spree, to help witches, to protect her kind from the Camarilla and the Army itself.

Now?

Now, she was running from the Army, her place with the Spree unknown because she refused to deliver her lover without assurances that she would be safe, and the Camarilla still out there, waiting to attack once again.

And, her soldier was with her.

Without consent.

As if sensing Scylla’s thoughts had turned toward her, Raelle began to stir. Scylla tensed at the movement, but not before pressing a quick kiss to a sweaty temple. 

If this was the last peaceful moment she had with her gal, she was going to get one more kiss in before it all truly fell away.

Face turning, nose tickling the patch of skin under Scylla’s chin, Raelle groggily mumbled, “Wha’?”

Scylla slowed the horse down even further, the creature barely moving as Raelle frowned at the brash sunlight beating down on her closed eyes. She raised a hand trying to cover her face as slim fingers reached for her cap, wanting to pull it down low.

Blue eyes popped open.

“Wha’ the hell?” Raelle rasped, nearly falling off, Scylla’s quick reflexes saving her from tumbling sideways. 

“Hello, Raelle. Did you sleep well?”

Raelle blinked rapidly, smudges of dust coating her lashes. Her breath came out heavy and fast, “Wha’...Scylla...the hell?” She sat up straight, hands shooting out and grasping the reins. 

Scylla ignored the deep seated rawness that chewed low in her gut at the loss of the warm body against her own, the comforting weight that let her know she wasn’t alone. That Raelle was with her. Just like during some nights when they would sneak into each other’s bunks, and Scylla could only fall asleep if she was touching the younger woman and vice versa.

Because, in this moment, she might lose more than a body against her own.

She might lose what mattered most to her in the entire world. 

The horse came to a halt, and Raelle slipped off the saddle, boots crunching against the clay as she stumbled back a step or two. Her head swiveled around, taking in the barren landscape before settling on the brunette perched above her. Her hands automatically patted at her sides.

“Your guns are in the saddlebags, if you want them.” Scylla called down casually. The end of the rifle was visible, sticking out like a stick from a patch of mud. 

Raelle’s head tilted to the side, unhappiness clear on her face, “What did you do?”

“What I had to.”

“Damn it, Scylla!” Raelle shouted, nearly knocking her cap off as her hands flew up in frustration, “I told ya to…”

“Leave you behind to most likely face court martial or be killed by the Camarilla. Yes, I recall.”

Raelle glared at her, “Do ya have any idea what ya’ve done?”

“Saved your life.”

Raelle threw her hands up again, the brass of her buttons glinting in the sunlight as she stomped away a few paces. 

“We should keep moving. I am certain we lost the unit following us, but we don’t know who else is out here.”

“No one else is around.” Raelle spat out, ripping her cap off her head and kneading it in her hand, “What the hell were ya thinkin’?”

Scylla grit her teeth and dismounted, stepping away from the horse and toward the irate woman, “I was thinking it would be best if you didn’t die. That was what I was thinking.”

“No,” Raelle shook her head, “I had it handled.”

“You were going to rely on the compassion and understanding of the Army, Raelle.” Scylla scoffed, “The same people who are ready for you to die to protect their reputations.” She shook her head, “Your plan was terrible, and you know it. It would have never worked.”

“Yes, it would’ve.”

“No, Raelle. They would have questioned you and locked you up or sent you out on a patrol where the Camarilla are known to be. A patrol you would not have come back from.”

The military would have tied up loose ends, one way or another.

“Now what?” Raelle turned on her. “How do ya plan to have two witches roamin’ about, one in her damn uniform?” Raelle slammed her hat to the ground, face red with heat and anger. “Ya coulda laid low, but us together?”

Scylla’s mouth snapped shut.

“If... _If_ , what ya were tellin’ me is right, there’s a price on both our heads now. I gave ya a chance and now ya killed us both.”

Scylla pursed her lips, mind whirling, “We can still do as you said. Go to the coast. I know how to travel, Raelle. To not be caught.”

“Ya were caught today!”

“That is not the same. And, as you may recall, I got out of it.”

“Because you kissed me.”

“Because you know what I told you is true.”

Raelle stared at her, vibrating. Her jaw worked furiously as she tried to not explode. Neither noticed as the horse casually hoofed over, bending over and taking the forgotten cap in its teeth. With a gentleness not always associated with such a large animal, it dropped the cap on Raelle’s head, giving the woman a little nudge with its nose before ambling off with a swish of its tail back to where it had been standing. 

Raelle crossed her arms, “I can’t run, Scylla. I tol’ ya.”

“You wanted me to leave you behind? When I know that you would end up six feet in the ground?”

“Ya don’ know that for sure!”

“Yes! I do! I do, Raelle.” Scylla marched up to her, “Listen to me. The Camarilla are here, and they are going to kill every single witch this side of the Mississippi. Once they do that, they will head East and murder everyone they encounter until there are none of us left. The Spree have warned and warned the military, and they _do not care._ No, I am not leaving you behind to fight witch hunters with an institution too blinded by its own greed and pride to even acknowledge who they truly are at war with. That the Camarilla are not defeated or retreated to some other part of the country. They are right _here_.” She reached for Raelle’s hands, not knowing if the blonde would let her, but needing to anchor them both in that moment, “I am sorry, Raelle. I will tell you that every day for the rest of my life. I am sorry I lied to you. There is no other choice.”

Raelle looked off to the side, tongue pressing against the back of her teeth, “If the Camarilla are back I need ta warn my Unit.”

“And what?” Scylla shifted, catching her eye, “Your Unit either will not believe you or they will and nothing will change. We tried to warn you all. I want freedom for them as much as anyone, but I cannot fight for those who will not fight for themselves.” She flattened her palm against Raelle’s cheek, guiding her face back around, “I love you. All we can do right now is figure out how to stay safe.”

“I can’ leave them. I won’t.”

Scylla sighed. Damn Raelle’s sense of loyalty. “We’ll leave a message. Warn them what is happening. But, we have to keep moving, Raelle. We can’t go back. If they catch us, there’s nothing we can do. At best, they will believe I kidnapped you and send you off to fight and die like every other soldier. At worst?” She trailed off, refusing to even contemplate that scenario.

Raelle didn’t speak, the edges of her mouth flinching as her chest rose and fell with each breath.

Scylla didn’t look away. Let blue eyes study her own. Search for whatever she needed to find in them. 

“I need you with me, Raelle.” she whispered. “Please.”

A moment.

Then, Raelle rocked back, wiping the back of her hand across her nose and mouth. She squinted up at the sky, absently adjusting her cap, “We been ridin’ for an hour? Headin' east?” 

Scylla nodded, “Sounds right.”

“We head southeast. There’s a town ‘bout two hours out depending on gallop or trot. Don’t stop. Army will have wired ahead that we’re in the area. Easier to spot me.” She began to unbutton her coat, revealing a sweat soaked white cotton shirt underneath. “We got maybe six hours of daylight left. It’ll be a half moon t’night. Got provisions ta last us till the next town over. Don’ wan’ ta hunt jus’ yet. Close ta town and where they were lookin’ for us, the sound will get attention. Ain’t much out here to catch, anyway.”

“You sound like a Dodger.” Scylla watched her shuck off her coat and jam it into one of the saddlebags.

“Tracker. Scout.” Raelle paused, chewing on her words, “Not too many folks back home do well with the army or strangers comin’ in. Ain’t too long ago we weren’t servin’.”

Those in the newly minted Cession did not face conscription until the accord with General Alder.

A couple of generations before might have been on the other side of a war with the General.

It was one reason why Scylla knew Raelle was not fully content with her life as a soldier. With following orders and unquestioningly doing as told. 

Why she thought the Spree might have spotted her as a good mark.

Scylla approached her, hesitantly placing her hand against her back, softly rubbing the curve of her shoulder blade, “I am sorry.”

Raelle exhaled, forehead leaning against the flank of her horse, “I’m mad as hell, Scyl. This plan ain’t no better’n mine.”

“At least I know you’re alive.”

Another tick of an invisible clock.

“I know aroun’ the Fort an’ when we get to my lands, bu’ I need ya to get us there.”

“Of course. Easiest assignment I’ve had yet.” she gave a tiny hopeful smile, wondering if Raelle was doing the same.

“You lied to me. ‘Bout everything.”

“Not everything. Never about _us_. About my love for you.”

“An’ I’m supposed to trust that? Trust you?”

“I’ll prove it until you do. Every day.”

“You thought putin’ me to sleep and doin’ the exact opposite of what I told ya to was gonna get me to trust you?”

“No, I thought it was going to keep you alive.”

Lifting her leg, Raelle smoothly sunk her foot into the stirrup and vaulted into the saddle. She held her hand down to Scylla.

Licking her lips, Scylla placed her hand in Raelle’s, quickly hopping in front of her. Settling in, she felt Raelle reach into the pouch to her left. In a blink, a pair of rusty leather gloves appeared in front of Scylla.

“You necros don’ ride much. Don’ wan’ ya hurtin’ your hands.”

“You do like my hands.” Scylla quipped, taking the offering and slipping them on. They were hot, the leather slightly uncomfortable and damp, but she knew her already aching palms would be glad for the protection. “Especially my fingers.”

Raelle huffed behind her, “We ain’t done talkin’ ‘bout all this. When we ain’t running from every damn person in the country, we are gonna have words.”

Scylla knew they would, “Of course.”

“Alright.” Another breath as her voice dropped to a cursory rumble, “I ain’t over ya, Scyl. An’ ‘m not sure I ever will. In case ya get anymore plans ya don’t share. I need ya ta talk ta me, alright? I can’t trust you if I don’ know what’s happening.”

Scylla bit her lip, her belly fluttering at the confession. “Yes. Alright. As long as you agree to listen.”

"Fine." Raelle loosely held the reins and gave a light kick, “An’ damn you if you ever kiss me an’ knock me out like that again.”

“You liked it.”

“Damn ya ta hell.”

“You don’t even believe in hell.”

“And you do?” the horse picked up speed, “You don’ know everythin’ about me, and I don’t know anything truthful about you.”

“You know more about me than you think you do.” Scylla’s voice turned hoarse. “You know more about me than anyone.” She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder at the Private, “I want to know everything there is to know about you, Raelle. But, don’t believe every moment between us was a lie or something fake. I found myself telling you things I’ve never told another soul. I trust you. I wanted you to know me. I want you to know me. You might think it’s false, but you’ve seen more of who I am than anyone alive. I’ll let you see all of me when you want.” Finished, she turned back around, looking straight out into the seemingly never-ending landscape of dirt and sky.

A minute later, the reins shifted to one hand while the other carefully came to rest along Scylla’s hip.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky by the time Raelle drew the horse to a snickering stop. Scylla rocked forward slightly, legs exhausted from holding herself up for hours on end. Her thighs burned and her feet had lost feeling over an hour ago. They had ridden straight through, barely stopping for any form of a break, needing to put as much distance between themselves and the Fort as possible. They’d skirted around the town they’d drifted upon, giving a wide berth to the ramshackle collection of buildings and fences and continuing on. 

“Here.” a canteen, half full of sloshing water, patted against Scylla’s arm. She blindly took the offer, her face uncomfortably hot from the incessant sun. She twisted the cap off and took a healthy swallow, almost moaning at the cool liquid dripping down her throat and chin.

Raelle quickly swept off behind her, landing in a slight crouch before fiddling with the sidebags.

“We’ll camp here tonight. I think there’s a place for us to wash up and get some better rest, get some provisions and a new ride, a short ways away tomorrow.”

Scylla racked her travel addled brain, parched throat begging for another sip of the cold elixir, “Yes. It’s a god sized town. Heavy civilian population. Enough people for strangers to not be recognized as such the moment we enter, and no one on the lookout for witches. Saloon with rooms.” She blinked, “A Dodger safehouse is there. We could stay there if the Saloon is unavailable.” She recalled hearing about it through the mutterings of the disjointed network of sympathizers and runaways when she was younger, young enough that she hadn’t been hiding in plain sight in a blue uniform or taken an oath she didn’t believe in. “There should be blind eyes to certain people traveling through in want of resources and a need to be forgotten.”

Raelle unwrapped the kerchief from her neck and swiped it across her brow, “Alright.”

Scylla regretfully pulled the canteen away from her thirsty lips, noting there was only a little left inside. Her stomach begged for more, to take every last drop and then some.

She held it out to Raelle, giving it a little jiggle to catch her attention.

Raelle took it with a small nod of thanks, “Ya sure ya got enough?”

“Take the water, Raelle.”

“Alright.” she tipped the canteen over, letting the rest of the liquid slide down into her belly.

Grimacing as bolts of lightning hot pain streaked through her muscles and lit up her nerves like bullets made of wildfire, Scylla swung her leg over, her entire lower body stiff and sore and aching. Calloused hands lightly grabbed her waist, steadying her as she fully dismounted.

“Goddess, this hurts.” Scylla mumbled to herself.

“Not quite the stamina ya thought ya had?” Raelle tugged the rolled up blanket from its perch near the horse’s neck and tossed it to the ground. 

Scylla shot her a look, “Not what I normally ride.”

Raelle only shook her head, shooing her away and beginning to take the saddlebags and saddle off the horse, “Sun’ll set soon. Have some food ‘n such in the bag if you’re hungry. Best we get some sleep and an early start tomorrow. Sooner the better.” As she fully loosened the bags from their place, she hesitated. Her eyes locked on the rifle sticking out, the trigger all but waiting to be pulled. Inside the pouches she knew were the silencer and bindings. Her eyelashes fluttered as her mind tossed and turned.

Was she doing the right thing?

Was she right to trust Scylla?

To run and hide and get her as far away from the life they both lived as possible?

Her heart skipped, clipping haphazardly like a lame horse attempting to sprint but too hurt to do much but hobble along till it was put out of its misery.

She’d left her Unit behind. Tally and Abigail. Anacostia. Even Glory and Libba.

All for a woman who had told her lies and mistruths. Seduced her and held her heart in her hands without a care that breaking it would be just about the worse thing Raelle could have done to her, because her heart, her body, her soul, was all she had left. All she had clinging to her on this earth, and she had willingly, freely, handed it over to the older woman.

She still didn’t have any of ‘em back.

She wasn’t sure she could even take them if Scylla tried to return them.

One look in those blue eyes that day, and Raelle was offering herself up all over again.

“Raelle?”

Sniffing, Raelle flipped the rifle out, leaning it against her leg and quickly lifting up the bags, tossing them over to land near Scylla’s feet.

Scylla glanced from the bags to the soldier’s back, almost feeling how tense she was beneath the once loose shirt now sticking to her shoulders and arms, some parts of the white translucent in the heat. Before she could say anything, her stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of food, and the blonde was focused on undoing the straps binding the saddle to the filly, not paying her any attention. With an internal sigh, she pulled off a glove and rummaged through the bags, pulling out a tiny bag of crackers as hard as rocks, “Raelle.”

“Hmmm?”

Scylla laughed to herself, “You do know this is worse than starvation, correct?” More than one soldier had chipped a tooth trying to gnaw on the tasteless brick like concoction of water and flour.

Raelle peeked over, rolling her eyes, “Abigail must’ve put that in there. _Always be prepared_. Look around.”

Scylla raised an eyebrow but did as told. Her fingertips bumped over the colt pistol, the hardness of the metal sending them jittering away, followed by some rope. 

Tools meant to hunt her down.

Tools that would now be used to hunt both of them down. 

To hunt all witches soon enough.

Then, she felt the small buckskin pouch.

Pulling it out, she took in the tiny package in her hand. It fit snugly in her palm, the hide smooth and unblemished by time and use. Artfully crafted and obviously much better quality than the random odds and bits that showed up in the quartermaster’s office or for trade among the Fort’s residents. Picking it open, the scent of dried meat and fruit hit her, causing her mouth to salivate.

Nimble fingers darted inside, reappearing with a morsel of jerky, brittle but deliciously tempting. She popped it into her mouth, and her eyes almost rolled into the back of her head. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since her last meal. Had to have been before she was forced to flee. What seemed like another life. 

A time long ago.

Leather creaked and the saddle hit the ground, kicking up dust. Raelle sauntered over, “Weren’t planning much on being out longer than a few hours. Campin’ supplies are low. No tent or nothin’.”

Scylla swallowed another piece of meat - buffalo from the taste of it - and pressed the bag into tanned hands, “I’ve slept through worse.”

Raelle accepted the bag, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she fiddled with it.

Behind them, the sun descended below the horizon, streaks of orange, pink, and yellow painting the sky like the finest artist’s palette, nature putting any great painter of renown to shame.

Scylla didn’t even notice.

The toes of her boot skated forward, almost touching Raelle’s. “Raelle,”

Raelle fisted the pouch, mouth ticking down as her head bent sideways, “No wood for a fire. Should keep watch. I’ll take first round.”

“Raelle.” Scylla spoke her name more firmly. Her hand instinctively went for the blonde’s, but Raelle turned away, moving over to the errant rifle left on the ground near the now unencumbered horse. Her throat bobbed as her voice edged toward weakness, resignation, “You hate me.”

The words tasted like bile as they left her mouth.

Made her feel ill, like a fever, a plague, with no cure.

Raelle froze.

“You want honesty from me, and I am willing to give it.” Scylla’s blue bore into her back, “You have always been honest with me. Do not stop now.”

Raelle shook her head, voice mute.

Scylla touched the tip of her brow. She knew she should let it be. Not provoke her volatile lover. Raelle was nothing if not a bundle of emotions. Passionate in her love, she was also temperamental when angered. Twin flames that burned all she touched when released. Yet, she couldn’t help the churning in her gut. The fear that prickled her insides. “If you have something to say…”

“I don’t.” Raelle interrupted her. She jerked the gun up into her hand and spun around, “I don’ have nothin’ to say right now. Just...not t’night. Alright? I….”

“Ok.” Scylla held up her hands placatingly. Soothingly, “Alright.”

Raelle nodded, more of a flinch of her chin than anything. 

The darkness of night blanketed over them before either could recognize that the sun was gone for the day and the stars were left twinkling in its stead. Night came quickly in those parts, and without a fire, it rushed through and all but blinded them if it weren’t for the celestial lights.

The couple walked over to the saddle. At Raelle’s gesture, Scylla settled down, head and back resting against the stiff leather. Oh, how good it felt to finally be off her feet. She thought about removing her boots, but even that much effort seemed like a gargantuan task. She wasn’t even sure she could bend her knees at this point. Raelle draped the blanket over top of her, the cool of the night a sharp contrast to the unerring heat of the day, causing the dried sweat on her clothes and body to feel like flecks of ice. 

Satisfied, she held out the bag of food to Scylla.

Scylla didn’t take the bag, instead wrapping her fingers around the blonde’s wrist and pulling lethargically, “Lay down, Collar.”

Raelle resisted, “I’m takin’ first watch.”

“Which you can do here.” Scylla tugged harder, “At least eat with me.”

She knew if she didn’t make her, Raelle would wander off and leave them both alone, separated by more than the physical distance. 

Her heart screamed at her to not let that happen.

To not let Raelle pull away.

To nudge her toward _them_ just like Raelle had done with her at the start of their relationship.

And, to make her lover rest, her body if not her mind.

Giving in with a muttered curse, Raelle plopped down beside her, rifle at her side. Scylla stretched the blanket over both their legs and took the pouch, opening it wide and snagging herself a piece of dried apple before letting Raelle know with the quirk of an eyebrow that she was to eat as well.

They laid there, chewing quietly, the only sounds the rustling of the horse and their own minds.

Swallowing her last bite of dried berry, Scylla hid her suddenly trembling hands beneath the blanket. Words tumbled in her mind like an out of control wagon wheel, going around and around, wanting to be spoken yet wanting to be banished, sent away never to be uttered lest it bring nothing but pain and agony to an already brittle breakable life. She tried to focus on the warmth of the presence beside her, the strength it always gave her, the reassurance that there were hands and arms ready to catch, ears to listen, and eyes to see her. “I have always liked the stars.”

Raelle didn’t say anything.

Wetting her chapped lips, she looked up into the night sky, starting to count each bright burst of hope she could find, “Dodgers don’t stay. We always leave. Always move. Never had any one place I could call home. That I knew would always be somewhere I could return to. Call my own.” A lump started to form in the back of her throat, “The stars, though, were always there. No matter where I was, I could look up, and the same stars were looking back at me. I could count on them to never leave. To never change.”

The lump threatened to choke her as a gentle shoulder rubbed up against her own.

“After my parents died...I didn’t have anything I could count on. But, I still had the stars. Even at the Fort, I could look up at night, and they were still there. Watching over me.” 

“Scyl…” Raelle whispered.

“I never believed in anything like I believed in those stars until I met you.” The words somehow pushed past the boulder in her chest, weighing down her lungs, “When you told me you were with me. That we would figure it all out together...I believed you. I fell in love with you. I thought...I had you and the stars, and I would do anything to be able to keep you both.”

Her fingers dug into the ground as she tried to even her breathing, blink away the grief threatening to blot out the light and drag her mind into an abyss so vast that she could never find her way out. Extinguish the stars and leave her alone with nothing to guide her, to comfort her, to remind her that she was alive.

“I will never apologize for wanting you to be alive. For choosing you. You may hate me for wanting to save you, protect you, but I’d rather lose the stars before I lost you.”

There it was. She would choose Raelle over anything else. The Spree. The Army. The Cause. Defeating the Camarilla. Her own life.

After her parents died, she had the Cause. She thought it was enough.

Then, she met Raelle.

Learned what it was like to love her. To be loved by her.

She chose Raelle.

A gasping sob broke past her lips as a tender arm wrapped around her shoulders, guiding her into the body next to her. She closed her eyes tightly, the stars appearing across the backs of her eyelids, as her face pressed into a sturdy yet soft shoulder. Her control fell apart completely as another arm threaded around her, holding her like she was more precious than any gem stone or flake of gold. 

Scylla fell into exhausted slumber rocking gently in a loving embrace. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raelle gulped as trembling hands wrapped around her shirt. 
> 
> “Raelle,” Scylla breathed out.
> 
> Raelle’s eyes drooped, lashes hovering over the blue as they turned dazed, “Wha’re ya doin’, Scyl?”
> 
> "You should clean up. Rest."
> 
> Raelle angled her head away slightly, words hovering along the slit of her lips.
> 
> Scylla undid the top button of her shirt, taking a moment, willing to somehow stop herself if Raelle rejected her, before working on the next one, “I want you.”

_The faint early morning rustling of boots and horse hooves filtered in through the small barracks window along with the pale glistening yellow of the sun. The hazy streaks of light cascaded into the room in beams of muted gold, like strands of thick honey, sticky and sweet and coating everything they touched with the syrupy brilliance of nature spun delight._

_Scylla felt the body shift underneath her, hips stuttering and sinewy muscles contracting as she scraped her teeth along the path of smooth skin, slow and steady as molasses, nipping ever so teasingly at the jut of a hip and soothing the flash of pain with the warm flat of her tongue._

_A hand cupped the back of her head, tenderly weaving into disheveled dark locks and caressing her scalp before urging her up. Her lips trickled up, dipping along the slant of a rib and tasting a smattering of freckles before scaling the valley between twin breasts, pausing as she reached the cool circular medallion resting at the base of her lover’s throat, the chain crinkled and twisted from sleep and other activities._

_The proud eagle, wings spread wide and talons sharp, mocked her, reminding her that Raelle wasn’t really hers. That she was the army’s. Someone caught up in blatant violent slavery where a simple necklace replaced all the chains and bindings once used long ago._

_That Scylla wanted her to be free._

_Wanted her._

_Was lying to her because Raelle didn’t know they were fighting opposite sides of a war. That the patrols and missions she went on to find Spree were meant to find her._

_“Scyl?” Raelle rubbed the pad of her thumb along the nape of her neck, hand sliding down to curve around and guide her closer._

_Scylla blinked away her thoughts, returning her focus to the woman in her bed, “You’re beautiful.”_

_Raelle grinned up at her, lazy and spent but still full of the life that Scylla couldn’t help but be drawn to._

_As they kissed, lips meeting for the first time that morning but the millionth time that week, Scylla wondered how she could keep this moment for the rest of her life. Like a photo in a locket, capture the feeling for all time and hide it away for no one else to see, to know, to touch or take away._

_To be only her and Raelle’s._

_The stirring of bed sheets intermingled with breathy sighs and hitching gasps as hands explored and re-explored, vast plains and heated caverns, heaving hills and rapturous rivers. The sun exploded and was reborn behind the backs of Scylla’s eyelids, and she felt the stars re-alight against the tip of her tongue and along the length of her fingers. Like a lost soldier desperate to find her way home, she followed the celestial guides, tracking the twitching wake of the birth of the world to slick lips and a sweat soaked forehead, resting her face against her lover’s as she listened to the wind sweep in and out of the mouth that pressed lazy kisses to her cheek and hair._

_She felt the suddenly cold medal against her hand, like pure ice, and she looked down at the circular shackle._

_The eagle stared back at her before flapping its wings and, with a somber look that shot to Scylla’s soul, a voice almost calling to her, telling her to go, to follow, it took off, lifting and soaring into the sky._

Heat and the faint taste of sand and sleep coated the inside of Scylla’s mouth. She worked her jaw slowly, scrunching her eyes shut and eyebrows knitting together as reality set in and the dream faded away into nothingness. Instead of tangled sheets and a thin mattress, a scratchy blanket was pooled at her waist and tough leather, already heating up in the morning light, was stiff against her aching back. 

Her legs felt like they were on fire, the muscles already pleading to not move. Her thighs felt like she’d been walking for months and her calves were little more than spent flesh and bone, used up and whittled down to nubs. She grimaced at her attempt to sit up, mind tumbling back to what she’d just seen.

What had happened in her dream.

A blush threatened to paint her already reddened cheeks though a smirk danced along the curve of her lips.

That had been one of the best mornings of her life.

The way Raelle felt under her, above her, inside of her - heat rushed through her veins and flowed to her belly as her chest fluttered like the wings of the eagle.The blonde had looked so beautiful, beyond words, as she moved against her, moved with her. Strong and soft, giving and taking, leading and following, hushed declarations of want and need and _always being there_.

Raelle.

Scylla cracked her eyes open and looked around.

Where was Raelle?

The last thing she remembered was...the safety of being in the soldier’s arms. Of confessing to thoughts and ideas and memories she never confessed to anyone, but she had to, wanted to, needed to with Raelle. Couldn’t fight against the unquenchable thirst that overpowered all sense of concern and wariness to give every part of herself to the other woman, let her see, to know who Scylla was.

That Scylla loved her.

A lilting murmur pricking her ears, Scylla bent her head around to the side.

A little ways away, she spotted Raelle, standing beside her horse. Shirt half tucked into her trousers and loose about her shoulders, she held a brush in her hand. The thick bristles tenderly brushed back and forth across the flank, one hand held firmly but coaxingly near the animal's imposing chest. The horse gave a small snicker as the brush moved along, head dipping down to nudge Raelle’s shoulder, big brown eyes the color of mud but clear as the sky seeming to spot Scylla.

Raelle patted the horse, her murmurings twisting and forming into words as they floated to Scylla, “Shhh, I know I ain’t got nothin’ for ya right now, but give me a couple’a hours an’ I’ll git ya right. Food’n water. Couple apples, alright? Ya like apples more’n Tally.”

The horse lightly stomped its front hoof.

“Hey,” Raelle pulled the brush away, crouching over to pick up the discarded blanket at her feet and draping it affectionately across the filly’s back, “quiet, now. Scyl’s still sleepin’. Let ‘er rest.”

Her horse snorted.

Raelle paused, shooting those brown eyes a look hidden by her cap and partially unbraided hair, “Wha’ I say? She ain’t all bad, Animikii. Ya like her, don’ lie like ya don’. I don’ know everythin’ goin’ on, but…” Raelle took a moment, words dying off as she unconsciously stroked the fine hairs of the creature’s side, “but it’s Scylla.” She shrugged helplessly, “Can’ stop loving her, no matter how mad she makes me. She,” Raelle chewed on her words, biting the inside of her cheek, “she looks at me, an’ I’d give her the sun and every cloud in the sky jus’ so she’d keep lookin’.” She straightened the blanket, clearing her throat, “Don’ need ya ta tell me how much of a fool I am. I know it. Jus’ need ta get back home. Reach the Cession, and can figure out somethin’ from there. What we’re gonna do.”

Almost as if she rolled her eyes, Animikii knocked Raelle’s cap off her head. 

“Wha’ the hell?” Raelle groused, spinning around to snatch her cap back. Low to the ground, she took the chance to shove the brush back in one of the saddlebags near her feet. As she began to straighten, her eyes landed on the brunette. Blue eyes widened for a second before her face settled into easy complacency, “Morn’, Scyl.”

Scylla swallowed thickly, her lover’s voice tilting and turning in her head, playing over and over.

Can’t stop loving her.

Can’t stop loving her.

Can’t stop loving her.

Scylla wet her lips, forcing her voice to remain calm, steady, “Hi.”

Her insides clenched, and she felt nearly lightheaded. Raelle still loved her. Hadn’t stopped.

Raelle loved her.

Raelle fiddled with her hat, hands coming to clasp in front of her and rub nervously, “‘bout ready to head out.” She started forward, “I’ll git the saddle set if ya check’n make sure we leave nothin’.”

Scylla nodded, mentally willing her heart to not skip and mind to stay sharp because Raelle loving her was everything but it didn’t mean they were _them_ , the two witches who spent the morning together like in her dream. Love meant a lot, but love didn’t keep someone by your side or in your bed.

Love didn’t keep someone alive.

As Raelle approached, she held out a calloused hand, the palms even slightly more chipped and bruised than before. Scylla accepted it, allowing herself to be pulled to her painfilled feet. She leaned into the blonde, not letting go of her hand, “Fall asleep with a girl and have her wake up alone? Didn’t know you were that kind of girl, Collar.”

Raelle huffed, “Doin’ chores while my gal sleeps past daybreak, an’ still don’ get nothin’ but trouble.”

Scylla ran her hand down her lover’s dirt splotched shirt, “You didn’t wake me for watch last night.”

“Didn’t feel much like sleepin’ anyway.”

Scylla squeezed her hand, “You need to rest, Raelle.” Raelle might be as pigheaded and stubborn as anything, but she was still human.

“I’ll rest when we git to town. Ya said there’s one a few miles away that we can stay at, right?”

Scylla nodded, “We can get a room and supplies.”

“Alright, then.” Raelle began to step back.

Scylla moved to follow, but the sore muscles screamed in agony, and she faltered, nearly tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa,” Raelle caught her arms, keeping her from hitting the dirt. “Ya alright?”

Scylla nodded, biting back her yelp of pain, “Fine.”

“No yer not.” Raelle eyed her, “Still torn up from the ride, eh?”

“Not the type of soreness I typically enjoy after a night with you.”

Raelle rolled her eyes but grasped Scylla’s hands, “Don’ move.” She began to mumble under her breath, lashes lowering.

Scylla felt a faint tickle in the back of her head, curious phantom fingers feeling around as a thread of gold and silver and starry sunlight passed across her vision and dove along her side to nip at her tired legs.

“Raelle, no.” she ripped her hands away.

Raelle was trying to link with her.

Heal her.

Raelle frowned, “Wha’?”

Scylla shook her head, ingrained need to keep to herself, to not let someone inside her mind, to see the darkness and the regrets and angry guilt that clawed and gnashed in the deepest parts of her brain. “Don’t.”

Raelle gestured in frustration, “Let me help.”

“I’m fine, Raelle.”

“The hell ya are. Ya ain’t gonna be able to ride like this. Jus’ let me fix it a bit. It’s alright.”

“No, I…”

“Wha'? Think I’m gonna see somethin’?” Raelle growled, “Right. I’m supposed ta trust you, an’ ya don’t even trust me to fix a sore leg. Ta see….”

To see what Scylla hid.

To see her secrets.

To see her.

“Raelle,”

“Forget it. It don' matter. I'm so stupid. Don’ know why I keep thinkin’ it’ll be…” she began to stomp off, agitation making her steps uneven. She jerked the saddle up off the ground and marched over to the horse, her back to the brunette as she went about preparing Animkii for travel.

Scylla’s hands clenched, fists shaking at her sides.

It was instinctual. Automatic. She couldn't open herself up like that.

Be completely vulnerable like that.

But, it was Raelle. 

The woman she loved.

The woman who still could walk away once she knew Scylla’s true self. Her darkest desires. The anger and rage that burned at the thought of her parents being murdered. The way the Spree gave her a place, a way, to harness that fury and unleash it for the greater good of all witches. To seek revenge in the form of justice.

Didn't want Raelle to see the memory of her parents' bodies hitting the floor as she hid. Their last words not malicious but pleading, fearful, worried. How she did nothing. How the two people who cared about her were treated like nothing more than rodents, mud on the bottom of an army officer's boot. 

The way she loved Raelle so much it scared her. It terrified her how much this one person could so easily break her. How much she was willing to give, to do, to sacrifice for her.

“Damn it.” Scylla muttered, stumbling on her heels and fumbling her way over to the horse and rider.

Goddess, her legs hurt.

But, not as much as the thought of taking two steps back in her relationship did.

Raelle finished securing the straps, giving one last tug, as Scylla approached. She quickly put the saddlebags back in place and spoke, not looking at Scylla, “Let’s go. Wasted ‘nough time as it is.”

Scylla opened her mouth to speak, but Raelle was already clambering into the saddle.

* * *

The ride to town was silent. Scylla could feel the tenseness in Raelle, the way she refused to relax as Scylla rode behind her, holding on to her sides for leverage but wanting to hold her so much more.The taste of their exchange was bitter, like vinegar, on her tongue, and the broken way grey blue eyes shimmered as Raelle walked away, letting her temper mask the way her feelings hurt, was like a snakebite, quick and sharp but leaving behind a poison that lingered in her blood, making her keep thinking about it over and over again.

What could she say to her? Make her understand that it was Scylla. Scylla and her secrets. Her fears and doubts. That she didn’t want Raelle to learn about those parts of her by way of invisible ropes binding them together. That she didn’t know if either of them were truly ready for that. 

That it had been drilled into her, the seed planted in her brain as a young girl and watered with terror and strife until the need to protect herself, to never let anyone in lest they discover who she truly was - a Dodger - overshadowed everything else like the canopy of a forest over the ground below.

To let someone in was to leave herself open to danger. To trust was to sign one’s own death certificate. To give up control of her emotions, her memories, herself would be the equivalent of tying her own noose.

One small misstep, and she was done for.

Always be careful. Always be cautious. Never link with anyone. 

Scylla was afraid, still, that she was never going to be able to keep Raelle by her side.

That Raelle spoke of heartache and bitterness, but there was something so innately _alive_ about her that Scylla sometimes worried would be snuffed out by the world. By the Army. 

Like her parents. Like so many others. 

A passionate fire that not even a necro could save from the clutches of the otherworld.

No matter how sad Raelle got, she was still Raelle. Never lost the loyal, caring, selfless fixer she always had been. 

The woman Scylla wanted to protect. To have and to hold and was willing to face the wrath of the Spree and the Army and the Camarilla and whoever else tried to harm her lover because, damn it, Raelle deserved to live and be happy.

The woman Scylla sometimes unconsciously protected herself from, because all that loyalty and caring and selflessness was almost too much to even comprehend. 

More than she ever thought was possible.

She sometimes looked at Raelle and wondered if she actually was a star, one of the many twinkling glimmers she saw late at night sent down to walk amongst humankind.

All the times Raelle would look at her, grin at her, kiss her and hold her close, murmuring about _always_ and _together_ and _with you_ both broke and rebuilt Scylla over and over again until she wasn’t sure if she was a statue, strong and molded from the hardest of clay, or nicked and jagged pieces scattered across the floor, broken remnants of a life once lived.

Before, she had her parents. Her family. Love and fear and secrets. Always moving. Always hiding. Never trusting anyone. Alert for any sign that the person standing next to her might turn her in, discover who she was, what she was, and report her for a bounty. A few coins in exchange for a life. 

Then, she had the Cause. Had the Spree and a thirst for vengeance that no amount of water could quench. 

Then, she met Raelle.

Everything changed. She changed.

The horse snickered when the first bit of fencing of a homestead came into sight.

The town had grown since Scylla last laid eyes on it. Rows of streets with crisply constructed buildings and wooden walks. People milled about, dresses and spurs going about their day like any other. No cares or worries beyond their own small individual lives. 

As the rode, she pushed her thoughts away along with the urge to wrap her arms around Raelle’s hips and burrow into the spot between her shoulder blades. They eased over to a spot in front of what looked like a bank, customers sweeping in and out of the door with bags in hand both full and empty. 

Raelle quickly dismounted, holding the reins in one hand as she removed her cap, stuffing it into the saddlebag next to her forgotten coat.

Scylla grabbed the saddle, legs protesting violently as she attempted to get down.

The wildfire raged like the hottest of painful suns along each muscle and nerve from her hips to her toes.

As her boot hooked in the stirrup, a hand settled on her lower back, offering the tiniest bit of support. 

She closed her eyes at the touch.

Not letting it show how much the simple feel of a hand did to her, she slid down, teeth rattling and gnashing as her boots hit the ground and pain ricocheted up.

Raelle quickly retracted her hand, “Best ta split up. I’ll take Animkii to a stable, get a spot fer her. See ‘bout gettin’ ‘nother horse or two.” 

Scylla bit her lip, not wanting to lose sight of Raelle when there was so much uncertainty, so much danger still present even amongst these kind looking strangers paying them no mind, “I’ll get us a room and some food.”

Her own stomach grumbled and her parched throat felt like the desert they’d just left.

“Alright,” Raelle nodded. 

“Meet me at the Saloon?” Scylla checked. “If I recall, there’s a stairwell up the back. Meet me in the room once you’re finished. I’ll let you know which one.”

Raelle nodded, gripping the reins and turning as if to leave.

“Raelle,” Scylla stopped her.

Raelle glanced back at her.

Scylla surged forward, kissing her, light and chaste. “Stay out of trouble.” she whispered as they broke apart, “Please.”

The corners of Raelle’s eyes crinkled as she stared, questions and emotions slinking around the shattered bits of blue in her gaze. But, instead of asking them, she led the horse away, leaving Scylla standing there, alone, on the wooden walkway.

* * *

The Saloon was busy, men and women gathered around tables, loudly laughing and cussing, cards slapping against scarred wood and glasses tinkling as liquid fire sloshed down dusky drunken throats.

Scylla weaved through the crowd, eyes sharp but head ducked low. She firmly held on to the parcels in her hand, bundles held together with twine and string. 

New pairs of clothes for herself and Raelle.

The store had been limited, mostly fabrics and strips of cloth meant to be sewn together at home or mail order forms for someone to select from the finest offerings the East had to offer with a fair shipping price once the coats and dresses were made. 

The eager store clerk had shown her an array of already made shirts and trousers, though. Even a few undergarments and a cap Scylla almost bought just to see Raelle grumble about how big and pink it was. 

_There was not much to choose from, most of the shirts too big for either of their slim frames. She waded through the odds and ends, frowning at a rather large garishly mustard yellow shirt and sickly green pair of trousers._

_That’s when she spotted it. A corner sticking up out of a pile of what was almost rubbish. She snagged the edge and revealed the beginnings of an outfit that had her mind flashing to imagined moments. Moments of Raelle standing before her, polished and fine with a dubiously charming grin and a joking tip of her cap before she forgot all about laughter with a brazen touch. Raelle’s gentle hands undoing the buttons of the shirt covering Scylla’s body from view, slow and steady, reverent and treating her like the goddess Raelle always claimed her to be. Scylla doing the same._

_The clerk appeared beside her, “Did you find something to your liking, ma’am?”_

_Scylla nodded, “Yes. This, please. And those over there. I’ll need two of these.”_

_The clerk hopped into action, gathering the items and rapidly packaging them up with a flourish._

_Scylla followed him to the counter, old metal register chiming as he punched a few buttons._

_“Ten dollars, miss.”_

_Ten dollars._

_That was a lot._

_She didn’t have ten dollars._

_She didn’t have anything._

_Looking him in the eye, her fingers traced a symbol at her side, hidden from view, “Here is ten dollars.”_

_The man nodded dumbly, “Here’s ten dollars.” He slammed the register closed and nodded, “Have a good day, ma’am.”_

_“You, too, sir.” she picked up her purchases and walked out._

“What’ll it be?” the bartender called out as Scylla found herself at the end of the long wooden counter.

“A room.” Scylla replied.

The woman, wizened with age but still showing a hint of the youthful beauty she once was, reached for a tattered book under the counter, “Name?”

“Smith.”

The woman chuckled, “Alright. Two bucks a night. You get a bed and supper. Tonight is beef steaks, beans, and bread.”

“There will be two of us. Is it possible to have a bath drawn?”

The woman’s eyebrow ticked up, “Extra buck. Bathhouse is around the back.”

“In the room?”

“Another two bucks.”

“Alright.”

The woman looked her over, “Anything I should be aware of?”

Like she was Spree on the run with her deserter girlfriend?

Scylla returned her stare, not answering.

“Fair enough.” She disappeared, reappearing a moment later with a key, “Second floor. Last door on the left. ‘Cross from the stairs outside.”

“Thank you,” Scylla reached for the key. 

The woman didn’t relinquish it, “We don’t go looking for trouble around here.”

“I wasn’t planning on bringing any.”

A scoff, “Sure you aren’t.” She let the key go but kept her gaze on the other woman, “I’d suggest you and your _other_ stick clear of the post office. They’re known to hang up photos of folks certain people are looking for. Same with the sheriff’s office.”

“Of course. Good to know.”

“I’ll have food sent up in an hour, ‘less you want to eat down here. Can get a bit rowdy and busy. My girl’s already preparing your bath.”

“Thank you. Supper sent up is appreciated.”

Scylla began to walk away when the weathered voice called out, “House one street over, with the blue door, is known to have guests from time to time. Folks there like to meet those passing through. Known to be friendly.”

“I know. I’ve been there before.”

“I suspect you have.”

A man careened around Scylla, mustache twitching, “‘nother round, Maeve!”

The bartender gave Scylla one last knowing look before slamming a glass onto the bartop.

Scylla licked her lips, thinking over the woman’s words as she darted around and went up the stairs.

The Dodger house was still there. One street over.

If they could help her and Raelle, aid them in gathering supplies and mapping a journey to freedom, she was more than willing to make the trek across town.

Dodgers weren’t the Spree. Some were, but it was different. They just wanted freedom, they didn’t want war or anything else but the chance to live their lives. The Spree fought to end the military enslavement. The Dodgers fought to live.

Coming upon the door at the end of the hall, Scylla entered the room, carefully muttering under her breath and tracing the tip of her finger along the doorknob to leave a trace for Raelle to follow. She closed the door and walked inside the small space. There was not much to be found. A card table with a chair, the wood dented and withering. A bed, frayed quilt pulled tight across the mattress that had surely seen better days. Finally, her eyes landed on the heavy claw foot bathtub, a luxury for any town out this way and one that cost a pretty penny for anyone thinking to have their own private wash. 

She walked slowly over to the table, setting the packages down, eyes never leaving the steam billowing up from the crystal clear water. 

Her muscles ached and silently begged to sink beneath the blue, to submerge in the healing cleansing embrace.

Strong decisive fingers reached for the hem of her shirt, and she easily slipped it over her head, letting the grimey garment float to the floor as she grappled with the buckle of her belt. It felt like freeing herself, stripping away the aches and exhaustion and fear with each layer of cotton. Removing everything that had happened in the past week until there was nothing left but Scylla, a woman, a witch, not a soldier or Spree or Dodger but a human. Flesh and blood. A being with no weights of the world but those that littered the floor around her.

Within moments, free of all specks of cotton and leather, a pale foot tested the water.

It felt heavenly.

With a muted moan, she stepped into the bath, letting her body slowly dip down down down until only her head hovered above the surface. She closed her eyes, letting the bliss of the freshness wash over her, clearing away the dirt and dust, the stress and anxiety, the aches and pains of life. 

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to forget that she was, once again, on the run. Let nothing but hot steam caress her face and force her mind to drift off into a relaxing blankness.

The door swung open, Raelle hustling in. The blonde quickly snapped it shut behind herself, juggling the saddlebags before depositing them on the floor in a heap, “Got a fair deal on a stall for Animkii. Think we can get a decent pony…” her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on Scylla, brunette hair curling in the heat and face flushed pink.

Scylla smirked at her, “Hello, Raelle.”

Raelle blinked, mouth dropping open.

Scylla tilted her head invitingly, “Come here. Wash up.”

“Scylla…” Raelle licked her lips.

Seeing the hesitancy, Scylla felt it like a dagger to her heart. Where Raelle wouldn’t have paused before, she was now holding back. 

She couldn’t blame her.

Carefully rising, the water rolled down her bare skin, tiny rivers and streams cascading along arms and across the flat of her belly, trickling to lithe legs and downy curls, Scylla stepped out of the bath. She slowly made her way over, wet footprints offering the path back to the sea.

Raelle gulped as trembling hands wrapped around her shirt. 

“Raelle,” Scylla breathed out.

Raelle’s eyes drooped, lashes hovering over the blue as they turned dazed, “Wha’re ya doin’, Scyl?”

"You should clean up. Rest."

Raelle angled her head away slightly, words hovering along the slit of her lips.

Scylla undid the top button of her shirt, taking a moment, willing to somehow stop herself if Raelle rejected her, before working on the next one, “I want you.”

“Scylla,”

“I’m trying, Raelle. I’m scared, but I’m trying, because I love you. If you want me, I’m here. _I trust you._ ” Her words turned throaty, "I don't know how to be in love, how to be with another, to trust, but I want to try with you. I want to learn how with you. Please." 

Raelle didn’t say anything, watching as, second by second, her shirt opened to reveal more and more skin. More and more of herself to the woman already laid bare before her.

Scylla’s hands continued to shake, with desire or nerves, it didn’t matter. Undoing the last button, she slid her hands up till they cupped Raelle’s neck. Her fingertips pressed into the back of her neck, thumbs rubbing small circles near her pulse point. She closed whatever bit of distance still resided between them, nose nudging her cheek shyly before lips hesitantly tasted her partner’s.

Slow, like a first kiss, like two people meeting for the first time, like the first touch they’d ever shared, Scylla caressed every inch, heart filling and head spinning before quieting down, nothing but the overwhelming sense of _right_ enveloping her and letting her know this woman she wanted to worship every hour of every day was who she was meant to be with.

Raelle returned the kiss, tentative and thoughtful, an exploration of rediscovery.

When tongues brushed together, the sun exploded and the earth snapped into existence.

Raelle lunged, wrapping her arms around Scylla and pulling her flush against her, mouth slanting and angling to take more, to deepen and taste and feel everything. Her hands splayed across Scylla’s back, slipping against the wet skin as she tried to feel her, to hold her.

Scylla moaned, meeting the sudden urgency with equal hunger, the fire that always burned between them going from a glowing ember to a raging inferno of flames in a matter of moments.

Raelle began walking them backward, back toward the bathtub, as Scylla clawed at her clothes, ripping them away. Tearing her mouth free, Raelle ducked to the side, latching on to the side of Scylla’s throat, nipping and licking fervently. 

Scylla gasped, gripping and holding on tight at the sensations shooting through her and straight to her core.

“Rae,” she exhaled, shuddering as blunt teeth scraped at the spot that always drove her crazy, “darling,” 

Raelle sucked on her pulse point greedily, color blooming beneath her mouth.

Finding the last vestiges of control, Scylla pulled Raelle back, “Raelle,” pupils dilated and unable to catch her breath, she rocked into her, forehead connecting with her temple.

Raelle kissed her chin, the corner of her mouth, “I want you.”

Whatever Scylla was going to say, whatever she needed to hear, disappeared.

Mouths fused, hands wandering, wanting, tracing new trails and mapping out new homes. The backs of Scylla’s knees hit the bathtub, and she gracefully stepped back into the water as Raelle removed her own boots and the rest of her clothes.

The moment they both sank into the water, they whimpered, Raelle settling over Scylla as the waves lapped and threaded around them, protecting them from view and cradling them close.

When fingers touched delicate slick softness, Scylla held Raelle to her, faces pressed together, breaths becoming one, heart beats in tune. They moved together, the water around them bathing and baptizing, whatever sins either might have caused wiped away with each stroke.

Scylla came with a hushed cry, the mewl caught in a loving mouth.

Twitching and trembling, Scylla held tightly to the body above her, around her, still inside of her. A body that was a part of her. 

As fingers slipped away, a faithful devoted kiss brushed against her cheek and jaw. 

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoying! Feel free to drop me a comment letting me know how much (or how little) you are liking this fic. Also, check out my tumblr - thefabfan10 - to see my random reblogs and MFS fic updates.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twisting it in her palm, Scylla locked eyes with the other witch. Almost nervous at what she might see in the cerulean orbs. 
> 
> This wasn’t Raelle letting her escape.
> 
> This wasn’t Raelle helping her hide.
> 
> This was Raelle choosing her. Choosing them. 
> 
> Not the military.
> 
> Not the Accord.
> 
> Not the oath each person born of a witch was required to take. 
> 
> She was giving that up...and putting everything in Scylla’s hands.

_Chaos._

_Scylla’s heart pounded in her chest, beating so fast it felt like it would rip out of her body. The pitch black sky was alight with flames, fires burning everywhere, scorching the stars and devouring everything it touched. Buildings were little more than food for the flaming beast, crumbling as the heat jumped, destroying with no remorse._

_People ran for their lives, the masses so thick she could barely breathe, the smoke choking her lungs, and bodies slamming into her from all sides._

_She couldn’t see Raelle._

_Where was Raelle?_

_“Raelle!” She cried out, coughing as she inhaled smoldering embers. “Raelle!”_

_People jammed into her, knocking her back, pulling her along in their wake._

_Masks covered faces. Fear in the eyes of some. Gleeful hatred in the eyes of others._

_She swam against the current, tugging the blackened bandana up to her nose, trying desperately to breathe, to fight, to find Raelle._

_A shoulder rammed into her, sending her twirling and stumbling to the side._

_She could hear screams._

_People were on fire._

_Trying to right herself, she spotted a body off in the distance, blue uniform unmoving._

_She knew without seeing the face._

_“RAELLE!”_

_She scrambled, tumbling forward, pushing and shoving until she reached her fallen lover’s side._

_“Rae,” she whimpered, turning her onto her back._

_Blood pooled at the corner of her mouth, gurgled up from a gaping hole sliced through her chest._

_Her heart._

_The flapping of wings burst through the noise, and an eagle, proud and regal, landed on the other side of Raelle._

_Scylla looked up at it, unable to stop her tears._

_It angled its head, almost as if speaking to her._

_Entreating her to follow._

_With a gust of wind, it was off, flying away._

_“We have to go. We have to follow it.” Scylla murmured. She didn’t know how she knew. She just did. Knew it like she knew she loved the woman laid out before her. She took Raelle into her arms, the body limp. With a heave, she clutched the blonde to her chest and began to walk, ignoring the hellish landscape around her, eyes on the bird soaring overhead._

_With each step, the smell of smoke disappeared. The disintegrating blackened burnt earth gave way._

_Bright green grass arose under foot. Flowers of every color. The sky turned to day, red to blue, cheerful sun smiling down on her. The eagle swooped down, her eyesight following it, happening upon tall strong trees, ancient and wise, as it did so. Brilliant forests, thick and full of beauty, rose up._

_She was so close._

_They were so close._

Scylla woke with a start, a sharp exhale parting her lips as she flinched.

Fear.

All she could feel was fear.

Her eyes swept around wildly, hands clutching the blanket wrapped around her body hard enough to turn her knuckles white and cause her bones to ache.

Danger.

They were in danger.

They had been caught.

Their killers had found them.

They had been so close, were so close, to making it.

To being alive.

They had to leave

Run.

Escape.

Live.

Her breaths came in short painful gasps. Her lungs still burned as if the fire lived inside them, set ablaze with a tiny match and wildly consuming every inch of her body.

She needed to save Raelle.

She needed Raelle alive.

She fought for air. 

For sanity.

They had to make it to the forest.

They would be alright if they could only get past the first line of trees.

Run.

Run.

Run.

Now.

As she spotted the bathtub, water speckled floor around it, and the hastily removed clothes strewn about, her heart rate began to slow.

A little snuffle caught her ear.

She closed her eyes, taking a calming breath.

The Saloon.

They were at the Saloon.

There were no trees. No forest. No burning buildings or soaring eagles.

If she concentrated, she could hear the clinking of glasses and rumbling of conversation through the floorboards.

Turning over, her heart beat calmed completely.

Raelle was asleep.

She was fine.

Only resting.

It had all been a dream.

It wasn’t real.

Scylla slowly ran her hand up and down Raelle’s arm, her touch barely a breath of a breeze along the sleeping woman’s skin, trickling along like a babbling brook washing over a smooth rock. She drank in the vision of peaceful plateus, the blonde relaxed in the throes of the dream world. She traced a pattern along the curve of her shoulder, mouth softening as the woman began to stir. She let her fingers slip along the strong shoulder to the base of her neck, smoothing down the tangled chain of her medal before moving up, blazing a trail like a trepid scout exploring once known land that was thought long lost, found again and just as beautiful as the last time she was able to be there, at home amongst the slope of a jaw and the arch of a nose, the dip of a chin and the rise of a brow.

Her heart seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time, calm yet excited, steady yet out of control with emotion.

She bit her lip when lashes began to flutter, ever so slowly revealing startling blue eyes, the sky greeting her sure and true, full of a feeling in the haze that reminded her why so many worshipped the celestial expanse with wonder.

“Scyl?” Raelle mumbled, mouth barely moving, her body unconsciously rolling closer to the brunette.

“Hi,” Scylla ran her hand across her temple, tucking a strand of sun spun hair behind her ear. 

“Time ta go?” Raelle’s eyelids threatened to close again, her mind caught up in the warmth of the embrace.

“Soon.” Scylla smiled to herself, her voice barely above a teasing whisper, “You should be wide awake. A nap and a bit of strength from earlier.”

From when they made love.

She bit her lip harder, thinking back to their moment together. How Raelle touched her. Kissed her.

Said she loved her.

As if sensing her thoughts, Raelle propped herself up on an elbow, eyes clear and staring down at Scylla in a way that made the brunette get that feeling in her chest again, a tightness that made her question how this was real. Raelle leaned down, nose touching Scylla’s as she brushed a kiss to her lips, “Not opposed to a bit more of that strengthenin’’.”

Scylla smirked against her lips, “I don’t know. You did fall asleep right after. I might be a bit much for you right now.”

“Can’ help it ya keep knockin’ me out with a kiss.” Raelle huffed, breath tickling Scylla’s mouth, “An’ you’re right here next ta me.” She nuzzled closer.

“Couldn’t let such a nice big bed go to waste.” Scylla cupped her cheek, “Nor the chance to hold such a gorgeous gal.”

“That so?” Raelle tilted into her hand. 

“It is.”

Raelle turned her head, pressing a delicate kiss to the inside of Scylla’s wrist, “Gonna do anythin’ ‘bout that?”

Scylla opened her mouth to reply, a witty retort on the tip of her tongue, when a flash of metal sparked in her vision. 

Raelle’s medal.

It hung from her neck, the chain starting to crinkle and twist again as Raelle shifted. Letting her lips fall back together, Scylla peeked down at the coin sized medallion before looking back up at Raelle.

Sensing the change, the air growing still, Raelle’s eyes asked what her mouth did not.

Slowly, tenderly, her simple movements bearing more weight than visible to the human eye, Scylla slid her finger along the length of the chain, each link bumping against her touch, imprinting the journey in her memory.

Raelle’s breath hitched as the marble hued hand grasped the medal. 

Scylla looked into her eyes, silently asking permission, wordlessly telling her what they both already knew.

Raelle gave a tiny nod.

The medal lifted up and over Raelle’s head.

Removed.

Scylla watched as her hand drifted down, stared at the circular manacle that had tied Raelle to the army, to a future with no choice, no freedom. 

A future where duty and honor stood in place of life, where they were bandied about as glorified words that signified slavery and pain, no matter what the dictionary or schoolbooks or generals said.

The etched design stared up at Scylla. Everything that she worked so hard against, fought against, bled because of, that took away her parents, that wanted to take away Raelle, resided in those small strokes and swiftly cut lines. An innocuous design meant to project strength but only signified pain. Despair. Death.

She hated it.

“Scylla?” Raelle whispered.

“You can’t wear this any longer.” Scylla muttered. It was the easiest way to know Raelle was military. A runaway. Deserter. If they were looking for someone of Raelle’s description, the medal would be a dead giveaway.

An even quieter, “I know.” 

Twisting it in her palm, Scylla locked eyes with the other witch. Almost nervous at what she might see in the cerulean orbs. 

This wasn’t Raelle letting her escape.

This wasn’t Raelle helping her hide.

This was Raelle choosing her. Choosing them. 

Not the military.

Not the Accord.

Not the oath each person born of a witch was required to take. 

She was giving that up...and putting everything in Scylla’s hands.

Breath shuddering, Scylla rose up, kissing her tenderly, slow and sweet, letting her lips express everything that burned in her heart.

Raelle kissed her back. She rolled on top of Scylla, pressing her into the hard mattress. Scylla hooked her hand around the back of Raelle’s head, fingers threading into her hair and lightly scratching.

“I love you.” Raelle nuzzled her cheek, tasting the corner of her mouth. Her hips settled between Scylla’s thighs.

A firm knock at the door interrupted Scylla as she smiled into a gorgeous mouth.

Both stiffened, heads turning warily.

Who would be at their door?

Who knew they were there?

“Maeve said you wanted supper up here.” a voice rang out through the heavy wooden barrier.

Raelle glanced back at Scylla, silently asking if she knew about this.

Scylla nodded, hand falling down to rub the nape of her lover’s neck, “The bartender. She runs this establishment. She said our food would be sent up.”

“Alright.” Raelle carefully slid off of her and out from under the blankets. Scylla gave herself a moment to watch the majestic stretch and pull of sinewy muscles. With a sigh, she followed, quickly pulling on the closest garment she could find to look presentable, Raelle already at the door, hand absentmindedly at her waist where a belt laden with a pistol usually sat.

Fort Salem’s training kicked in, even when it was another form of servitude, another way civilians took away a witch’s unique power and replaced it with their own approved version.

Cautiously, Raelle opened the door, and before either could react, a spritely woman bustled in, a whirlwind of hair and plates. She roughly set them down on the table, ignoring both women, “Here ya go. Any complaints, keep ‘em to yourself.” 

With that, she was gone.

Raelle shut the door, her amused glance at Scylla met with quiet laughter.

“A talker, that one.” Raelle noted.

“Loads of fun.”

“Pr’bly does parties.”

Scylla nodded, walking over to the steaming plates of food. She plucked up a morsel, popping it into her mouth, her stomach rumbling as a reminder she hadn’t eaten all day, “That is quite the look, Raelle. I rather like it.”

Raelle looked down at herself. 

In her haste, she’d put on Scylla’s shirt, haphazardly buttoned to the point it didn’t cover much of anything, her own trousers loose around her hips and riding low with no belt or suspenders, feet bare.

Scylla sobered slightly. 

She couldn’t recall ever having seen Raelle outside of her uniform before. In anything other than her blue jacket and kepi cap, black boots and already fading and scratched brass buttons.

Certainly never in civilian clothing.

She licked her lips, forcing herself away from those thoughts. She offered Raelle a hesitant smirk, “We should eat. I am certain you must be hungry.”

Raelle stared at her for a moment. Contemplative.

With a tiny shrug, she ambled over, nodding, “Yes, ma’am.”

Scylla motioned to sit down at the small table, but a hand at her wrist stopped her. She peered over to see Raelle, head ducked, hair still braided on one side.

She gulped.

Raelle would need to get rid of her braids while they traveled.

Another sure sign of a witch were her braids. 

A coldness enveloped her, churning in her belly.

Raelle always had her braids. Always.

Scylla would be taking that away from her.

She remembered the medal now laid out on the bed.

Any sign of the military, of being a witch, would need to be removed. Tossed away. Hidden.

They would need to blend in, not stand out.

A squeeze to her wrist drew Scylla’s attention back to the present.

“I meant it.” Raelle whispered, voice roughened still from sleep or something else, Scylla couldn't be sure. “Ya make it hard sometimes, Scyl. So damn hard. Bu’, I ain’t ever not gonna want ya. Love ya. Alright?” She ducked her head further, a self-deprecating grin hinting around her mouth, “Don’ go on makin’ me a fool again, if that’s alright.”

Scylla felt a boulder appear in her throat, choking her, “Raelle,”

Raelle let go, tapping her wrist with the pads of two fingers before shuffling to the food, “Trustin’ ain’t easy for ya, but it’s all I ever asked for. You trustin’ me an’ me trustin’ you. Don’ got much of nothin’ otherwise.”

Scylla quickly snagged her hand, pulling her back, “I trust you with my life, Raelle.” She tilted her head, locking blue with blue, “I trust you. With everything. I swear it. I might forget at times, not remember I have you by my side, but it’s only for a moment. Long enough for me to take your hand. I might not be able to tell you something in the present, but that does not mean I don’t trust you. Please, believe that. You are the _only_ one I trust.” She wrapped an arm around her back, “I choose you, Raelle. Whatever that means and however that looks. Believe me when I say that I love you and will do anything to keep you safe.”

“Not lookin’ for a protector, Scyl. Don’ need anymore savin’.”

Scylla rested a hand against her chest, feeling the beat of a strong heart against her palm, “You are getting everything, Raelle. Protector. Lover. Friend. Confidante. I am yours.”

There was no doubt in her mind that she would willingly give everything, all of herself, to Raelle. For Raelle.

The brunette’s gasp was swallowed by lips suddenly against her own, insistent but gentle. A slow seductively thorough kiss that was sweet as molasses and as striking as white hot lightning.

When they ever so tenderly broke apart, Raelle vowed throatily, “Always been yours, Scyl. Couldn’ ever change that.”

Scylla kissed her again, whimpering at the feel of lips against her own, a tongue seeking entrance she eagerly granted.

Her fingers fumbled with the few randomly done buttons covering Raelle from view, from her touch. She deftly pushed the dusty fabric away, and her lips followed, pressing against a now bare shoulder, skimming down to swirl against the heady flesh above her heart.

Raelle gripped the back of her head, fingers kneading into her thick hair, and urged her back up, kissing her harder, igniting the fiery spark of life in both of them, the breath very their lungs stolen and replaced with a burning so strong, so irrevocably powerful that neither could ignore it’s might.

Neither of them ever would.

Breaking apart, heads together, hands wrestling with clothing, Scylla chanced a glance into her lover’s eyes.

The unadulterated love she found reflected back at her seared into her blood, taking up residence in her soul and roaring in her heart with an awakening she never wanted to end. 

She once thought Raelle would never look at her in that way ever again.

Like she saw the entire meaning of everything in the form of a young witch, the swirling storm in dark blue eyes the window to all that the prophets and preachers of every sect proclaimed to be found in books and buildings but was actually in the woman in her arms.

It was the same look that sparkled in Scylla’s gaze every time it landed on the soldier.

“I love you.” Raelle’s voice wove across her cheek, down her jaw as teeth nipped and a hot mouth wandered, worshipping every inch it found. 

The blonde’s next words were a low moan as Scylla pushed her back against the table and sank to her knees.

* * *

“I ain’t wearin’ that.”

Scylla rolled her eyes, laying out the newly bought clothes from their expertly wrapped bundles.

“No, Scyl. I ain’t doin’ it.”

“Yes, you are.” Scylla smoothed out a wrinkle from the shirt, “Your other clothes are as dirty as a swamp, and you stand out like a sore thumb. You cannot wear your uniform, Raelle.”

“You did this on purpose.”

“Buy you clothes so you would have something fresh and clean to wear while we run from the army? Yes, I did. Scandalous.”

“Think I liked ya better when we were fightin’.”

“We weren’t fighting, _dear_ , you were being stubborn.” Scylla held up the trousers, inspecting the cloth before tossing them, hitting Raelle square in the chest, who reluctantly caught the garment before it hit the floor. “You will look handsome and beautiful, stop worrying.”

“’m not worried.” Raelle grumbled, “Jus’ ain’t used ta this.”

Scylla sighed, walking over to her and helping her out of the dirt stained shirt currently draped over her shoulders, “I know, but you will look fine.” She kissed her cheek, “I promise.”

Raelle bit her tongue a tiny huff causing a few strands of her loose hair to flutter. 

Scylla kissed her cheek again, “Trust me.”

Trust that she knew what she was doing. What she was asking of her. 

That she knew how to hide in plain sight.

Shaking her head, Raelle began to dress, studying each piece before putting it on.

Scylla began to put on her own clothes, wordlessly luxuriating at the feel of fresh cotton against her soap scrubbed skin.

“How’re them legs o’ yours?” Raelle asked, voice muffled as she bent her head to focus on slippery buttons, “Still smartin’?”

No.

Now that she thought about it.

She peeked over to see a rather smug look directed her way.

“Next time I’m not feeling well, I will be sure to drag you to the nearest flat spot and let you have your way with me.” Scylla barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

“Don’ have ta wait for that. All ‘bout bein’ prepared. Can certainly get a head start jus’ in case.”

“You sure do know how to court a girl, Collar.”

When she didn’t get a response, she turned to look over at the other witch. 

And sucked in a shuddering breath.

Raelle was adjusting the waistcoat over the suspenders clipped to her trousers. The deep royal purple contrasted nicely with the stark white of her shirt and the grey of the trousers. The black of the necktie hung loosely around her throat, waiting to be tied by already worriedly fumbling fingers that worked the buttons of the vest.

Without a word, Scylla slid over, laying her hands atop Raelle’s. She gently moved them aside, letting her own fingers take their place, easily buttoning up the vest. Once she reached the last button, she smoothed down the material before reaching up, making quick work of the necktie.

She did her best to not think about who taught her to tie one.

“Ain’t never worn nothin’ like this.” Raelle muttered, fingers itching to tug at the collar of her shirt. 

Scylla pressed a kiss to her chin, then her cheek, “I know. You look splendid. Stunning.”

“I look like a High Atlantic.”

Scylla kissed the thin white line near her jaw, “You could never be a High Atlantic, Raelle.”

“Small mercies.”

Scylla picked up the grey coachman hat and dropped it on her lover’s head, covering her blonde braids, “Perfect.”

At least for a little while, they could hide them from view.

Raelle’s face said she didn’t believe her, but she stepped back, straightening the hat on her head and looking down at the new clothes, “Bit different.”

“What is?”

Raelle swept a hand down the length of her body.

“Raelle,”

“Ain’t no Cession private, huh?”

No one in her family ever wore, let alone owned, anything near this quality, most garments passed on through generations or handspun by those with enough skill with a needle and thread to put together a shirt or two.

Scylla laid her hand around the crook of her neck, touch warm and heavy, “I know this isn’t what you normally wear.” She could sense the medal still lingering nearby, the regulation uniform, the military issued revolver tucked in a holster strapped to a leather belt with a US Army buckle holding it steady, “I understand that I’m asking you to look like, be like, someone you’re not.” She squeezed, “It won’t always be this way.”

“Scyl,”

“I was a dodger for a long time.” Scylla swallowed roughly, “And, that meant hiding who I was. Hiding what I was. Simply hiding.” She worried her bottom lip, “I love you. I love you because you are you. I am asking you to change, to hide, only when we are out there, only when others might hurt you.” She exhaled, “I can hide you, Raelle. It does not mean I want to. We cannot look like witches. You cannot look like you are a soldier. Even appearing as someone from the Cession could raise suspicion in certain towns...with certain people. Once we get away, once _we’re free_ , we won’t have to hide anymore. We won’t have to run.” A wobbly grin, “You do look quite lovely, though.”

Raelle touched her side, fingers hooking in the cotton of Scylla’s shirt, the touch saying everything that nestled in her mind. “‘M sorry ya had ta hide, Scyl.”

“I never did with you.”

She may have lied about being Spree, but she never lied about her feelings. Raelle was the first one, the only one, to truly see Scylla for who she was, as she was.

She saw her, and that was all that mattered.

Releasing her hold on Scylla’s shirt, Raelle offered her a crooked grin, tapping the brim of her hat, “Ya sure are a sight yerself, Ms. Ramshorn.”

Scylla smirked, the seriousness of the moment melting away, always there, but simply interwoven with the knowledge and understanding that they were together, and they would figure it out, as a pair, as a couple, as one, “You have always liked blue.”

“Looks damn good on ya.”

Scylla winked and strode away, the deep midnight blue of her shirt making her eyes sparkle with a richness that would make any head turn. The black of her trousers blended into the black of her boots, the belt buckle a startling speck of silver. “Almost as good as on the floor by your bed?”

“Might need ta find out.”

“Want to see if you can make my legs weak, again? Without a horse?”

“Somethin’ like tha’.”

“We both know it only takes a few moments. We don’t have time right now, though.”

Raelle rocked on her feet, a tinge of self satisfaction sparking in her stance before she asked, “Where’re we goin’?”

Scylla scooped up a bit of ribbon, using it to tie her hair back, “There’s a house in town. Dodger safehouse. They can help us gather supplies and provide information on the best route to take to the Cession.”

Raelle chewed on her bottom lip, “Dodger house?”

Scylla noticed the flickering of her words, “Yes.” she let her arms drop, hair out of her face, “They’re fine people, Raelle.”

“Never said they weren’t.” she shrugged, “Jus’ never thought I’d be one.”

They were dodgers now.

Defectors.

Deserters.

Traitors.

“They can help us.” Scylla spoke quietly, “I know this was never what you wanted. Not truly. I understand what I’ve done. What I’m still doing. What I’m asking of you. And...I’ll understand if, upon realizing what you’ve truly agreed to, it is not what you actually desire.” She suppressed a shudder at the thought of Raelle choosing to go back, choosing a life that would most surely result in her death. The very idea of it sickened Scylla. Made her feel ill. Yet, she felt the sudden need to offer Raelle what she firmly believed, utterly knew beyond any doubt, was wrong but which Raelle needed to know Scylla would ultimately agree to, even if she couldn’t force her tongue to state the words. Raelle was loyal to a fault. She might love Scylla, but she was leaving behind her entire life for uncertainty. For a girl who lied to her. 

Leaving on the trust that what Scylla was telling her was true. About the Camarilla. The army. The Spree.

She was leaving behind a fight she never wanted but was always going to be a part of.

A fight her friends, fellow soldiers, sisters, would be subjected to.

She was standing there, dressed in clothes she would never wear and being asked to pretend her entire life, her entire existence, wasn’t her own.

Scylla understood what the life of a dodger entailed. 

She was making Raelle become that, live that, take on that burden, on little more than faith and feelings.

Taking off a medal or putting on a pair of clothes paled in comparison to walking out that door and transforming into someone hunted because of one single choice.

The moment they left that room, went to the dodger safehouse, the decision would be made in a finality harder to overturn than the Accord itself.

“Told ya I’m with ya, Scyl. I don’ go back on my word. I love you. Ev’rythin’ ya jus’ said ‘bout bein’ together...when ya talk ‘bout wantin’ me...wantin’ us...it ain’t no different for me. Even if I try, it don’ change nothin’. I don’ need no offer ta leave ya. I won’ ever take it. ‘M not leavin’ ya. We’re gonna go find that someplace safe.” Raelle spoke firmly. “Followin’ your lead here, ‘cause I ain’t nothin’ till we get to the Cession. We need ta go to that house? Let’s go. Ya need me ta wear these fancy clothes or act like I don’ know what Work is, I can. If it means gettin’ ta be with you, helps keep ya safe, I’ll do it. But,” she added, “I do wan’ ta leave somethin’ for Tally an’ Abi. Note. Letter. Tell ‘em what’s comin’. Give ‘em a chance.”

She bit the inside of her lip, Raelle’s words causing her hands to shake and eyes to glisten. She swallowed thickly, “I know. We will.” 

“Alright.” Raelle took a deep breath, “You dodgers sure do dress funny.” A wink.

“You like it.”

“I like how ya look.”

“Keep your hat on, Collar.”

“Can do a lot with a hat on.”

“I know.” She pulled on a knee length black coat, completing her outfit.

Raelle cleared her throat and marched over to the door, plucking up something on her way. She scooped up the belt and holster, automatically pulling out the gun and checking it, before shuffling over to Scylla, “Come’re.”

Scylla frowned.

Lifting her chin, indicating for Scylla to raise her hands, Raelle looped the belt around Scylla’s waist, carefully letting the holster rest by her hip and buckling the slightly heavy leather in place.

“Raelle,” her hands grasped Raelle’s, stopping them.

“In case anythin’ happens.” Raelle cut her off. “I know ya can knock anyone clear off their feet with a look, but...we’re not supposed ta be able to, right? An’...anythin’ could happen so...try not ta shoot me. Or kiss me unexpectedly...much prefer not wakin’ back up on a horse halfway to nowhere.”

“Raelle, no.” she was more than willing to use Work if it meant keeping Raelle safe. If she was discovered to be a witch, well then, it wasn’t as if it were a lie. She would do whatever it took, even revealing her true identity.

“I know necros skipped out on all the fun parts o’ training, bu’ ya can shoot.”

“And you?”

Would Raelle be willing to use Work? 

“Won’ be the first time I got in a fistfight.” she gave a light tug to the belt before letting her hands drift away. She twisted her wrist, reaching up and wrapping something soft yet rugged around Scylla’s neck. Deft fingers tied the bandana easily, having done the simple action numerous times before, the movements automatic, ingrained, making it tight enough to be of use but loose enough to not cause any discomfort. “Don’ wan’ ya gettin’ all dusty ‘gain.”

Scylla lightly touched the bandana, throat bobbing ever so slightly, before she grabbed her by the waistcoat, fingers dipping in between the buttons, and pulled her in for a kiss.

“It’s not a fistfight if the other person has a gun.” Scylla breathed against a pliant mouth.

“Guess ya jus’ have ta have my back.”

Scylla leaned away, searching sky blue eyes.

Raelle offered a small smile, “‘m with ya, Scyl. Ya’ve always known that. Ain’t seem like nothing’s gonna change that. You look out for me, an’ I’ll look out for you.”

“Would you want it to? Change?”

“You keep talkin’ ‘bout choosin’. Ain’t never been a choice for me. Wouldn’ want it to. Not anyone else I’d ever want like I want you.” She let her gaze drop, “Like I love you.”

Scylla huffed wetly, “You shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

Scylla dipped forward, pulling her into another kiss, her brow scrunching at the sweet taste of devotion on her lips and blooming in her heart. As they broke apart, she gave the other woman a tiny push, “Stop trying to woo me. We have to go.”

“Only a kiss.”

“We’ve never had _only_ a kiss.” 

Raelle sobered, “I know who ya are, Scyl. I know what I want. Who I want. To hell and back, we’re figurin’ this out together. We got an understandin’?”

Raelle was with her, and she was not going to change her mind, “Keep talking like that, Collar, and I might think you’re trying to ask for my hand in marriage.”

Scylla laughed heartily at the earnestly flabbergasted wide eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know the drill. I adore every single one of you who took the time to read this. Double that if you leave a kudos, and triple the love for those who leave a comment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house was unobtrusively unremarkable in every way. Set between two other clapboard buildings, it did not rise high into the sky but was not small enough to garner interest. It blended in, many a passerby never remembering the wooden structure standing idly on one of the few streets, most more interested in the loud saloon with flowing drinks and promises of a bed, either with or without company, one of the few shops actually selling quality wares before the frontier truly sparked to life, or the nearby railroad, the town a final stop on the journey out west. The front stoop was swept clean of dust and dirt, but it did not sparkle. The windows were scrubbed but did not shine in the hot sun. 
> 
> Completely forgettable and unnoticeable. 
> 
> The only thing that might catch a wandering eye was the blue paint freshly coating the front door. A shimmering robin egg blue that seemed to call out to a select few who could hear the song, feel the gentle welcoming hum vibrating in the dusty sweltering air. A harmonious thrum that crept into the veins and comforted a weary traveler seeking shelter like the arms of a mother enveloping a child who had been gone from home for far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem used is Song - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The house was unobtrusively unremarkable in every way. Set between two other clapboard buildings, it did not rise high into the sky but was not small enough to garner interest. It blended in, many a passerby never remembering the wooden structure standing idly on one of the few streets, most more interested in the loud saloon with flowing drinks and promises of a bed, either with or without company, one of the few shops actually selling quality wares before the frontier truly sparked to life, or the nearby railroad, the town a final stop on the journey out west. The front stoop was swept clean of dust and dirt, but it did not sparkle. The windows were scrubbed but did not shine in the hot sun. 

Completely forgettable and unnoticeable. 

The only thing that might catch a wandering eye was the blue paint freshly coating the front door. A shimmering robin egg blue that seemed to call out to a select few who could hear the song, feel the gentle welcoming hum vibrating in the dusty sweltering air. A harmonious thrum that crept into the veins and comforted a weary traveler seeking shelter like the arms of a mother enveloping a child who had been gone from home for far too long.

Scylla slowly approached the building, senses alert to anything that might pose a danger. The inaudible beckoning swirled in her chest and had her muscles unknowingly relaxing. She locked her jaw in an attempt to keep her mind focused. 

They weren’t safe, yet.

There was no calm retreat where they could rest with both eyes closed and let their bodies succumb to tranquility.

Not when the army could be anywhere.

The Camarilla could be anywhere.

A fine upstanding civilian or a ruthlessly greedy individual looking for a quick payday who could alert the local authorities to the presence of two deserters.

Two traitors to the Accord. 

Get a few coins tossed into their pocket because they handed over a pair of witches who only wanted to be free.

Civilians didn’t care about them. Didn’t care about what witches went through, were subjected to. 

Why should they, when it was easier to keep them in invisible chains, to send them out to die for them, to die for no reason?

The army would surely kill them on sight.

They killed her parents.

Why not kill her lover, too?

The holster weighed heavily at her side, the buckle glamoured to hide the army’s stamp. She could feel Raelle beside her, solid and real, muscles tense beneath a veneer of almost calm. Her face was blank. Expressionless. Almost passive. The subtle twitch of her fingertips, a clenched jaw, and the way her eyes scanned the street for trouble gave her away, though. Revealed the silent mask she put on.

Military training and years of learning to be attuned to her surroundings, to the sights, smells, and sounds of all that nature or human created and whispered in her ear, quietly informing her of what was around the bend, what was in the air, in the soil, in the trees overhead and the battlefield before her, had Raelle paying attention to every shadow that lurked along the empty street. 

Scylla watched the way Raelle’s eyes ticked back and forth, felt her move closer, their steps in time as the dirt crunched under their boots. She studied her lover’s face. The way her scar stood out the more her jaw clenched. The reflection of the sunlight in the glint of her focused gaze. It was clear. Raelle was not listening to the song. Not letting the sweet sense of home that permeated from the blue door infiltrate her mind and curl up in her soul.

For a brief moment, Scylla wondered if she could even feel it. Hear it. 

The thought that she couldn’t sent a quick bolt of dread down her spine, an abrupt shock of coldness amongst the dry heat and cozy warmth.

Scylla brushed their shoulders, her hand lightly touching Raelle’s before wrapping around it, thumb settling firmly along the back of Raelle’s palm, the movement hidden from sight but doing enough to elicit a silent breath from the blonde. The soldier’s shoulders lowered a fraction, a blink letting her already sweaty brow relax ever so slightly. She took better hold of the hand, lacing their fingers, and glanced briefly at Scylla, wordlessly not wanting to give up her diligent watch but needing to lay eyes on her companion. 

Scylla sucked in her bottom lip, chewing it worriedly, before speaking quietly, “Relax, Raelle.”

“Don’ like this.” Raelle grumbled, only relenting from her anxious stance with a firm squeeze and swipe of a thumb against the curve of her hand.

“The dodgers,”

“Ain’t them.” Raelle interrupted her, “Somethin’ don’ feel right since we left the Saloon.”

Scylla had felt an underlying sense of anxiousness, but she blamed it on the fact they were on the run. “Towns aren’t always the safest place to hide. You can blend in, but, there’s a better chance of someone noticing us.”

Especially with so many people hunting for them.

Raelle’s jaw twitched, and she looked back down the road.

“What is it?”

Raelle shrugged. She didn’t know.

The hairs on the back of Scylla’s neck stood up. She followed Raelle’s gaze, taking in the empty street, “Do you see something?”

“Ain’t no knower.”

Scylla quickly calculated in her head the distance back to the Saloon and where the stables were. 

If there was something out there, the closest possible safe haven was the dodger house. 

“Raelle,” Scylla drew her attention, “Let’s go inside. It will be ok. Let me do the talking.”

“Course.” Raelle easily agreed.

“Whatever happens, promise me you will stay safe.”

Raelle cut her eyes away, peering back down the street.

“Raelle,” she needed to know that the blonde would not overreact. Not let her emotions take hold no matter what presented itself to them. Scylla wanted to believe they would be fine once they reached the house. They would be safe, in some small way.

She wanted to believe.

But, life had taught her that her beliefs weren’t always true.

Her parents had been in a dodger safe house when they were killed.

And, Raelle, goddess protect, would be foolish enough to throw herself in front of a bullet or a windstrike if she thought it’d cause Scylla any form of discomfort, let alone actually hurt her.

“Ain’t promisin’ somethin’ ya know I can’ do.” Raelle uttered, relenting under the forceful glare, “Only if you’re safe, too.”

They stopped a few paces from the tiny path leading up to the door.

“Raelle,” Scylla faced her. She reached up and adjusted her hat, completely covering her braids and tugging the brim down to cast shadows over her eyes, “Trust me.”

Trust her to get them to the Cession.

An easy little half grin and sharp indulgently enamored eyes said everything hidden in the depths of her one word answer, “Always.” 

Her heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at that grin.

She fell in love with that grin.

Scylla caressed her cheek as her hand dropped away, “Can you feel it?”

Could she feel the Work?

Raelle looked away for a second, her eyes returning with a spark of light, “Like runnin’ through the first summer rain as the sun rises.” A flash of a wider grin, “First time ya ev’r kissed me.”

Another log was thrown on the cozy fire in her heart.

Scylla dipped in, stealing a kiss before reluctantly swaying back, lashes fluttering as Raelle followed her, seeking one more quick taste. She bumped their shoulders, giving a quick squeeze to Raelle’s fingers before leading the witch to the front door. Her free hand stretched out as a fist and her knuckles tapped the blue wood in a once familiar pattern that had been ingrained in her memory for as long as she could remember.

They waited, no sound but the distant snickering of a horse and muted voices from one street over providing a natural cadence to the day.

The sound of a lock clicking echoed, and Raelle shifted on her feet, motioning as if to step in front of the brunette.

Scylla quickly placed their joined hands against the side of Raelle’s leg, wordlessly telling her to stay in place.

She appreciated the protectiveness, but she could handle it.

This was her territory, after all.

Her people.

People who may become Raelle’s, as well.

Who already were, even if the blonde didn’t know it.

The door swung open, and a short woman, stringy red hair piled on top of her head, a few strands matted to the side of her face and temple from steam and sweat, peered out at them with a cautiously welcoming smile, brown eyes quickly studying the pair, sizing them up in barely a breath.

“Hello,” Scylla spoke, doing her best to ignore memories of a different time, a time when she was a child, her parents still alive and by her side, protecting her, moving her from place to place, bringing her to safety. “Weary and homesick and distressed, they wander east, they wander west. And are baffled and beaten and blown about, by the winds of the wilderness of doubt.”

The woman’s features softened, a sad twinge glinting at the corner of her mouth, “To stay at home is best.”

Scylla nodded, anxiety hidden behind confident eyes yet still peeking out in the way her chin ticked with unformed words and a warily hopeful posture. Her hands itched to dive into the confines of her coat, but, she held back, prepared to raise them in defense or gratefulness, she had yet to know. She released Raelle’s hand, freeing them both in case a mistake had been made.

She sincerely hoped it hadn’t been.

The poem was the last thing she could recall learning from her parents. A code to distinguish friend from foe, trespasser from truant, stranger from dodger.

She silently begged whoever may listen that the poem hadn’t changed. That she hadn’t misspoken. That her mother and father’s final lesson had stuck just like the images of their faces, smiling and happy and to never be forgotten.

She prayed she wasn’t wrong.

The door opened wider, and the woman stepped aside, ushering them in with an air of understanding, “Welcome home, child.”

Welcome home, child.

The words hit Scylla, a strike swift and true, directly in her chest. Her lips wobbled, and she clenched her teeth tighter to ward away the rush of emotions such simple words caused within her.

Words she hadn’t heard since her parents were murdered.

The words of the Dodgers.

A solid warmth against her lower back brought her mind into focus, and she stepped in, brushing past the older woman and looking around the small yet cozy home. The entryway was tiny, barely able to fit in a mirror and chair. To the right, she could see a wood burning stove alight, what seemed to be a kettle for coffee sitting on top, gurgling away. To the left she saw a small sitting room, chairs artfully arranged, a lean young man sitting in one as a girl no older than her stood before an overflowing bookshelf, tapping her chin as she read the titles.

The door closed, and the woman stepped around to stand before her. She spoke gently, “How may we help you?”

The warmth was back at Scylla’s lower back, and she almost leaned into the strong yet loving body sidling up just behind her. She reached around, taking Raelle’s hand in her own once again. With a glance at the people in the other room, she spoke quietly, “We need supplies and a place to stay for the night.”

“Where are you staying now?”

“The Saloon.”

A nod, “Ah.”

An acceptable choice, but not the safest.

Scylla pursed her lips, nervous about how much to share with this stranger, with anyone other than her lover. Even if this was a safe space. Even if the comforting hum echoed in her ear. It would do no good to let her guard down. Her life had proven that as a fact to never be forgotten nor ignored. “Food. Water. Two horses. Enough supplies for at least a week’s travel without stopping.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose, “A week?”

“Yes.” At least.

“Let us talk in the kitchen. I am preparing coffee.”

The trio walked into the room, Raelle a bit more stiffly, her eyes never leaving the red head except to quickly dart around the new environment. Scylla tapped the side of her hand with her thumb, sending a silent message that was received with an inaudible exhale.

“We will need camping supplies. Bedding. Clothes.” continued Scylla, her thumb unconsciously smoothing along the bumps of Raelle’s knuckles. The grasp on her hand tightened a little bit more, assuring her that Raelle was by her side. 

The woman checked on the coffee before sitting down at a little table, crossing her arms. “You do not need to tell me. It is none of my business. But, you are asking for many things. When do you need them all by?”

“Soon. Today. Tomorrow.” Scylla answered. “Are you able to help us?”

They had no time to waste. There was no knowing how far the army’s communications had reached. If they were still searching for them and how.

What else the rugged terrain held in store for them.

What unknown dangers lurked in the surrounding territory.

“Yes,” the woman nodded thoughtfully after a few moments of consideration.

“Ms. Maple, can I have some…” a little girl waltzed in, pigtails flapping around her face as she twirled playfully, her words and feet coming to an abrupt halt as she spotted the two strangers, “Oh. Hello.”

“Sally, dear, why don’t you go find your mother?” Ms. Maple asked kindly. 

The little girl ignored her, dancing cautiously over to Scylla and Raelle, “Hi. My name is Sally. What’s yours?”

Scylla stared down at the girl, voice suddenly leaving her unable to reply. 

She was so young.

Had she been like that when she was a child?

Did this little girl know what was coming? What she was running from? What all witches would be running from?

“Raelle,” Raelle jumped in as the room grew quiet, “An’, this is Scylla.” She touched the brim of her hat in greeting, “Pleasure makin’ yer acquaintance.”

“Are you hiding, too?”

Raelle wet her lips before giving a small nod, “Yes’m, we are.”

The girl giggled, “I’m not a ma’am. That’s my mama.”

“Well,” Raelle knelt down to one knee in front of the girl, “My ma’ and pa always tol’ me ta say nice things ta girls and treat ‘em nicely. Ain’t gonna stop now.”

“You talk funny.”

Scylla’s hand flew to her mouth with a snort of laughter.

She was not going to let Raelle forget this moment for a long long time.

Raelle rolled her eyes at the other witch over her shoulder before looking back at Sally, “Naw, ya’ll’s the ones talkin’ funny, Ms. Sally.”

The girl giggled again, swinging back and forth, causing her yellow dress to sway around her ankles, “Do you know how to play marbles? My daddy doesn’t like to play much, and my mama is always reading.”

Raelle grinned, “Don’ know if ‘m much good at it, so’s ya gonna have ta take it easy on me, alright?”

“Ok,” the girl grabbed her hand, pulling her along out of the kitchen. Raelle looked over her shoulder at Scylla, clearly unsure if she should leave her alone, leave her side at all.

Scylla gave her an encouraging nod.

She would be fine.

They were ok in that house.

If not completely safe, at least in a spot where they could lower their defenses a notch.

And, if anything were to happen, Scylla was more than capable of handling it.

Scylla didn’t even know she had a gentle smile glittering like a soft bed of stars as Raelle was unceremoniously dragged away, the little girl talking a mile a minute as the blonde nodded along.

“Your companion certainly has a manner with children.” Ms. Maple piped up.

Scylla bit her tongue, swallowing thickly, “She can be very charming.”

She could be many things.

“How long have you two been courting?”

Not long enough. Never long enough. A lifetime. A minute. “A while.”

“It must be difficult...being with a deserter.”

Scylla stiffened, her spine snapping into steel. Her heartbeat quickened, and her hands shook slightly as she forced herself to not react, to think of the appropriate piece of Work to get them out of danger.

“Calm, child.” Maple soothed, “I’ve seen my fair share of soldiers come and go. She ain’t too easy to spot, you did a fine job disguising, but she’s got that air about her. A sadness that can cling to some. A melancholy masquerading as toughness. The kind of sadness that doesn’t end happily. Usually with a pine box six feet in the ground.”

Maple stood up, going over to the stove, pouring some piping hot coffee into a cup, “And you...you’ve been here before, I can tell.”

Scylla closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, before reopening them, “We cannot stay long. We need to keep moving.”

The woman cradled the mug in her hands, contemplating.

The crack of marbles and a muted “Sonofa…” followed by a girlish giggle filtered in.

Scylla smiled to herself before turning stern eyes on the older woman, “Do you have a map?

She could easily chart their path to the Cession.

“I do believe I do.” She took a sip, “Where you folks headin’?”

Scylla reluctantly admitted, “The Cession.”

Her eyes widened, “Well then, no wonder you all are asking for some help.” She squinted at her, “You know what you’re getting into heading that way?”

Scylla smirked, “Freedom.”

* * *

It took hours, Maple pouring more than one cup of coffee and offering a small snack of day old bread and freshly churned butter, a few messages being sent out via the thin man who had been in the sitting room to various locales, negotiating pricing and informing merchants that a list of items would need to be prepared by the following day, haggling and bartering, refusals and stiff stances with boots dug in and unwavering pulled back shoulders denoting that, no, that was unacceptable, but Scylla finally reached a point she felt her and Raelle would have what they needed for their journey to the Cession.

They would have food, camping supplies, and two fresh horses. The map safely hidden away in her inner coat pocket would guide them through the upcoming days until Raelle was close enough to know the trails they would need to pursue.

The trails that would lead them home.

For a brief moment, Scylla felt, if not relaxed, partially hopeful. 

Her and Raelle could do this. Could make it to the Cession. To safety. To a place far away from wars and fighting and death.

To a place they could be themselves. 

Could be together.

Be happy.

In love.

Alive.

Making her way out of the kitchen, the faint taste of coffee and sweet butter still coating the inside of her mouth, she followed the sounds of soft chatter through a backdoor neatly propped open and hidden in shadows. 

When she peeked her head out, Scylla felt her heart clench.

Raelle was sitting cross legged on a small wooden porch, face screwed up in concentration as she spun a marble between her fingers. Sally sat across from her, gleefully waving her hands and chattering on about something Scylla didn’t quite catch.

Raelle, giving a nod to whatever the little girl said, lifted her hat off her head and wiped her forearm across her brow before setting the hat back over her sun kissed locks, letting the wool felt rest at a jaunty angle, leaving her clear blue orbs visible as they squinted at the game.

“Ya sure yer not cheatin’?” Raelle grumbled, the equivalent of a pout puckering her lips.

Sally shook her head with a giggle.

“Gettin’ swindled by a child.” Raelle muttered.

“Raelle?” the girl asked.

“Yes’m?” Raelle bent forward, jamming the tip of her thumb against the marble and shooting it forward. It wheeled about, skipping across the rickety oak planks of the porch, cracking into a dip and flipping over the little gem of a ball she was aiming for.

She watched Raelle’s shoulder slump in defeat and calloused fingers pluck up another marble, “Are you and Ms. Scylla married?”

The marble skidded out of her grasp, “Wha’?”

“Well, are you?”

Raelle blinked, a rare dusting of pink rising in her cheeks like a summer sunset, “No.”

“Oh.” Sally nodded, “Are you going to get married?”

Raelle swallowed thickly, her jaw twitching, “No.”

Scylla felt something catch in her throat.

“Why not?”

Scylla’s breath stuttered in her chest, something deep inside of her needing to hear her answer.

Raelle cleared her throat, “Don’ think Ms. Scylla’d wan’ tha’.” Her eyes dipped down, “Not quite the marryin’ kind.”

“Oh.”

It was true.

Scylla never thought about marriage.

Never saw the point.

Love wasn’t something that existed. Not for her.

It wasn’t like witches fell in love, stayed together, made any sort of commitments beyond a few years to produce the heir to the line.

That’s what was encouraged.

How could Scylla even think about something like love when her entire existence was to fight for liberation?

Because the only people she ever knew to be happy together, to be in love, were her parents.

And, they were gone.

Yet, something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach as she heard Raelle utter those words. Something that twisted and clawed at her.

Because, she did fall in love.

She was in love.

Unable to stay there eavesdropping any longer, Scylla cleared her throat, and two pairs of eyes shot up to look at her. Raelle offered her a slightly sheepish smile before it dropped away, blue orbs looking her up and down, “Everythin’ alright?”

“Fine.” Scylla replied.

Sensing something not quite right, Raelle glanced at Sally, “Ms. Sally, might I have a moment with Scylla, please?”

The little girl scrambled to her feet, giving a happy little wave to Scylla as she skipped back into the house.

Raelle motioned to stand up, but Scylla raised a hand, stopping her. Lowering herself back down to the ground, Raelle’s brows scrunched together, “Ya sure yer alright?”

Scylla nodded, slowly closing the distance and falling to her knees. 

“Somethin’ happen in there?” Raelle asked. Protective concern flashed in her hardening eyes, “Do we need ta…”

Scylla cut her off with a kiss.

Raelle instantly melted into the touch, eyes fluttering closed and lips moving against the soft mouth. She slipped her hand up to cradle a smooth cheek, humming as she tasted creamy salty sweet butter mixed with something unique to her girl.

Tenderly breaking apart, Scylla skimmed her hands up Raelle’s chest, letting her palms come to rest on her shoulders.

“Ya sure do know how ta say hello.” Raelle breathed out. 

“Hello.” Scylla cheekily replied, running her hands along the base of her neck.

“Ya sure yer alright?” Raelle grasped her hips. 

Scylla nodded, “Everything is arranged and being taken care of.”

Raelle turned pliant under her touch. She unfolded her legs, gently urging Scylla to come closer. The brunette complied, hooking a leg over Raelle’s thigh and settling in her lap.

Scylla’s thumb trailed across the expanse of her jaw, “We should gather your belongings from the Saloon.”

Raelle gave a tiny nod, not making any gesture to move.

Fingers trickling down to straighten the necktie that had loosened during her game, Scylla admitted, “I would.”

“Wha’?”

She wet her lips, the words sticking to the roof of her mouth. A flash of icy terror seized in her chest. Her arms went numb, legs useless.

Yet, she knew the words were true.

“Marry you.”

Raelle’s breath stuttered to a halt.

Scylla didn’t look at her, focusing on the cut of her waistcoat, the white of her shirt, “You are the only one I ever would.”

Raelle squeezed her hips before gingerly slotting her thumb and finger under Scylla’s chin, lifting it up until blue met blue, “Wha’ ya sayin’?”

“If you asked me, I wouldn’t necessarily say no.”

Raelle took this in, tongue heavy and mind slow yet galloping as fast as a wild pony, “Scylla,”

Scylla exhaled, “I am not asking you for anything, Raelle. I never have or would expect anything from you. But, my choosing you means for our lives, however long they may be. If you ever don’t want that, want me,” she gulped, “I understand. I’ll always love you.”

Raelle huffed out a disbelieving puff of air, “You say things like tha’, an’ I think you do wan’ ta marry me.”

“Maybe I do.”

Maybe it was the uncertainty of their future.

The feel of destiny, fate, breathing down their necks. 

The universe shrinking in on them.

The knowledge that they were more likely to never make it to the safe place Raelle spoke of. 

Maybe it was knowing that Raelle had been so close to being lost to her. So close to never being a part of her life from here on out.

Maybe it was the illusion of eternal love flickering in her heart as she sat so close to her lover she could feel her heartbeat.

It was ludicrous. Mad. An absolute distraction of an idea to ever contemplate, let alone voice, while they were running from those who wished to hurt them, kill them.

But, one look into those eyes that whispered secrets and promises to her, and Scylla felt the words churn in her belly, needing to be stated.

A slow easy smile, pure enamored adoration in the form of thin lips, spread across Raelle’s face, “Ain’t...uh...this ain’t no dream, is it? Ya didn’ leave me back by the Fort after knockin’ me silly an’ takin’ my horse?”

Scylla bit her lip, “Do you normally dream about losing to a child?"

Raelle’s gaze drifted down to supple lips, “Naw, usually somethin' bit more nice.”

“We really should be going.” Scylla felt the full heat of the setting sun dancing across her flesh.

“Uh huh.” Raelle mumbled. She ducked forward, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat, “Might like ta talk ‘bout this when we get to the Cession.”

“About you getting cheated by a child? Or how you talk funny?”

“‘Bout how damn pretty ya look right now.” Raelle kissed the beat of her pulse, “How I’d like ta see ya like this ev’ry day I can.” She tilted up, nuzzling the side of Scylla’s nose, “You’re gonna look damn fine in the Cession sunset.”

Goddess.

Raelle touched their foreheads together, “Don’ need no ring or nothin’ ta know who I belong ta, Scyl. Don’ do somethin’ ‘cause ya think I need it. You choosin’ me is ‘nough. Ya lovin’ me is all I need ta know.”

Heart shattering and tenderly put back together in a matter of moments, like the prairie after a long winter, whatever cold layers left melting away to reveal the sweet youthfully vibrant tenderness beneath, Scylla kissed her. Kissed her because whatever words might have come to mind were lost in the euphoric overwhelming sense of pure _love_ that enveloped her. 

“You have to stop being so charming.” Scylla murmured against her lips.

“Day after ya stop lovin’ me.”

Never going to happen.

“We need to go,” Scylla broke away and slowly climbed to her feet. Raelle followed suit, snatching the flap of Scylla’s black coat and guiding her in for another kiss.

Goddess, she could stand there kissing her all night.

Forcing herself to step back, Scylla grabbed Raelle’s hand, and the two of them meandered back into the home. 

“Wha’re we doin’?” Raelle muttered out of the side of her mouth, eyes scanning the small confines.

“We should head back to the Saloon and gather what items we want to bring with us. We’ll come back here for the night and, if all goes as planned, we will have fresh horses and all of our supplies by morning. We can be on our way before the sun rises, no later than midday.”

The sooner the better.

They ambled through to the small entryway, “These folks worth trustin’?”

“Yes.” she would never trust them fully, but she trusted the dodgers with helping them escape. “We are not the first they’ve helped. Won’t be the last.”

Raelle pulled her hat down low, “Might be best ta inspect the ponies ‘fore t’morrow. Don’ wan’ no lame or unrideable one.”

They didn’t want to get swindled and caught with a horse they couldn’t ride.

Scylla nodded, “There are a few supplies we can inspect tonight after supper. You should eat something before we go.” 

“Maybe if ya shared what you were eatin’ before.”

“And interrupt your rousing defeat?”

Before Raelle could respond, something flashed across the window facing the street.

Both turned to look.

“Did ya see tha’?” Raelle asked, taking a step toward the window and peering out.

Scylla nodded. She didn’t know what it was, but something felt wrong about it. 

Raelle’s eyes widened, and she jammed her hand behind her, driving it into Scylla’s shoulder and pushing her back.

“Raelle?”

“Go!” Raelle stumbled back terrified, shoving Scylla away from the window, “Don’ go near the window!”

Scylla tripped backwards, mind reeling at the panic in Raelle’s voice. “What?”

A flaming torch smashed through the window, glass flying everywhere as the flames licked at the wooden walls and furniture. 

Scylla ducked, covering her face as slades of glass drove toward her, flying knives slicing at her hands and cutting into her coat sleeves.

Raelle crashed into her, tackling her to the ground as another burst of fire exploded through the other window, lighting up the house in sickly red smoke. 

Footsteps rattled the floor as people rushed out of rooms, frantic and wild. 

Voices cried out, shouting, screaming, overturning chairs and slamming into each other.

Scylla coughed, wheezing as Raelle rolled further on top of her, covering her body as a slew of bullets cracked overhead.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang. Bang. Band. Bang. Bang.

Rapid fire. Nonstop. 

The flames scorched the air, the bright blue door burning, the walls glowing as fire crawled up like hot molten claws.

“Scylla? Scylla?” Raelle grabbed at her face, staring frantically into her eyes.

“I’m fine.” Scylla croaked, her back hurting from the fall, but otherwise ok. 

They had to get out of there.

Raelle slid off of her, and Scylla quickly sat up, gasping for air as she climbed to her feet. 

What was happening?

Another wave of bullets smashed into the house, the walls shivering as holes ripped through the clapboard. 

Scylla ducked, grabbing Raelle’s arm and pulling her down as a gunshot whizzed by her head.

“Back door.” Raelle rasped.

Scylla nodded, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the way they came. 

Smoke filled the room.

The eerie reddish tinge made it seem like hellfire.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see.

A hand reached out, fingers snagging the bandana tied around her neck and clumsily tugging it up.

The bandana.

Scylla pulled it up over her nose and mouth as her boots connected with something on the floor, almost sending them both sprawling, feet tripping until they collided with the wall.

She squinted down, eyes watering from the acrid smoke.

It wasn’t a piece of overturned furniture.

It was a body.

It was Sally.

She wasn't moving.

The hand in hers disappeared.

“Raelle!”

Raelle dove to her knees, eyes burning and coughing as she ran her hands along the body.

A deafening ear splitting roar exploded from the kitchen. 

The entire house shook.

“Ask and it shall be given you. Seek and ye shall find.”

“Raelle!” Scylla dropped to a crouch beside her.

Raelle, eyes closed and hands curled around the base of the girl’s throat, continued to chant, face screwed up in agony or frustration, it wasn’t clear.

It was both.

“Rae,” Scylla breathed out. She looked at the little girl. 

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

There was a hole in her yellow dress now stained red.

Her eyes were open.

There was nothing inside them.

Like a doll’s. Like the marbles they had been playing with earlier. Glassy. Unresponsive.

Dead.

No.

“Raelle,” she touched her lover’s shoulder.

Raelle pinched her eyes shut tighter, words shaking, “Ask and it shall be given you.”

The front door splintered.

“Raelle, darling, she’s gone. She’s gone, Rae. We have to go.”

“I can save her.” Raelle grunted. “I..I jus’.”

A loud crack echoed above them.

Scylla glanced up.

The floor above was caving in, fire burning the entire ceiling.

“Raelle! Please! We need to go. Now!”

Pursing her lips, Raelle bent over and whispered in the girl’s ear, “I’m sorry.”

She threw herself back, the link broken.

Scylla grasped her shoulders, lifting her to her feet.

They ran.

Stumbling and dodging through the flames and smoke, they crashed through the backdoor.

Lungs begging for air, soot coating her face and stinging her eyes, Scylla didn’t stop. 

They sprinted, tearing across the small plot of land and weaving behind the building next door. 

Blue eyes looked back.

The entire dodger house was up in flames. A circle of smoldering ignited hell.

Death.

Raelle stumbled to a knee, coughing up black ash.

“Raelle!” Scylla caught her as she tipped forward.

“‘M fine.” Raelle tried to weakly wave her off.

“No, you’re not.” Raelle had breathed in the flames. Her entire face was blackened, her blonde hair a sickening mixture of white and black ash. Bits of burnt embers and chips of wood dotted her shoulders and coat.

“Ya alright?” Raelle wheezed, rubbing at her reddened eyes.

“Fine. I’m fine.” she frantically looked her over, “Are you hurt?” Had she been hit? Shot? How much had she taken from the girl?

Raelle shook her head.

“Do not lie to me. Not now.” If she was hurt, Scylla needed to know. 

“‘M not.” Raelle’s chin quivered, “She weren’t...weren’t nothin’ there.”

Scylla felt the air rush out of her lungs.

A crack of a gun echoed in the distance and a scream reverberated in the air.

Raelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened them, they were clear. Focused. “We gotta go. Right now.”

Scylla nodded.

They would have time later to discuss this.

To discuss everything.

To feel.

Right now, they had to survive.

“Do you know what’s happening?” 

Raelle pushed to her feet, “People. Civilians. Faces covered.”

“Masks?”

A shrug, “Saw one of ‘em throw the fire. Had guns. Lookin’ and soundin’ like Winchesters. Repeatin’.”

Goddess.

Scylla took this in.

Deep down, she knew who it was.

She knew who would burn down a dodger house.

A witch’s house.

“Gotta git to the stable. Get the hell outta here.” Raelle leaned against the wall of the building. 

“Follow me.” Scylla stared into her eyes.

Raelle gazed back. 

They were in this together.

They were going to get out of there.

With a breath, Scylla darted around the building, Raelle at her heels. They jogged through the darkness, the flames of the building turning the night sky a nightmarish bloodcurdling red. 

They made it to the next street before they were spotted.

The stables were one building away.

So close.

The couple pulled to a stop as the smoke cleared and what was happening became more evident.

The danger became more clear.

Men and women on horseback and foot crowded the street, some holding torches, others wielding rifles and pistols. Faces covered, only their darkened eyes visible. 

In the middle of the street were hastily erected poles.

People were tied to them.

Two of the masked people were setting fire to the piles of sticks cluttered underneath the makeshift stakes.

Scylla felt her body go numb.

“Oh my god.” Raelle whispered beside her.

They were burning witches at the stake.

“Over there!” a deep horrendously fiendish voice shouted.

Eyes turned on them.

“Damn it.” Raelle wrapped her arms around Scylla, throwing her behind a pile of crates stacked neatly in front of the shop they were standing by.

Voices shouted and a handful of people walked towards them.

Scylla clambered to a knee, peering out around the crates as Raelle shifted behind her.

They needed to get to the stable.

Get to a horse.

They wouldn’t make it on foot.

“Raelle?” Scylla flexed her fingers.

Raelle ducked down, mouth next to her ear, “Yeah?”

“Meet you at the stables.”

A pause. Then, “Alright.”

“I love you.”

Raelle swallowed thickly, words brushing softly across her skin, “More’n every star in the sky.”

Scylla turned her head, catching her mouth in a quick heated kiss.

Then, she felt Raelle slide the gun out of the holster on her hip.

With one last kiss, she pulled back and faced the men marching towards them.

The Camarilla.

Her mind calmed, the world slowing down as a hand touched her back and she heard a small click.

The first shot rang out, the bullet ripping into a Camarilla’s chest, sending him to the ground in a heap of unmoving limbs. 

Raelle aimed the gun, body covering Scylla as she squeezed the trigger, the shots sending the witch hunters scattering.

“Sonofa,” Raelle grunted, spinning on her knees as a woman approached from behind them. She fired, hitting the woman as a bullet cracked into the crates. Back to back, Raelle fired a few more shots, blindly reaching behind her to the tiny pouch hooked to Scylla’s belt, tearing out bullets and quickly reloading. Scylla concentrated on the body in the middle of the street.

A low seed began to hum deep in the back of her throat. 

Raelle whipped back around, ducking behind the crates as the Camarilla shot back, wood chips flying in the air and cutting into her face. She scrambled to a crouch, weaving around and firing back.

The seed grew louder.

More Camarilla moved toward them, guns aimed high and bullets smashing into the wooden cover.

It wouldn’t hold for long.

Raelle cursed, a large chunk splintering and slicing across her hand. Blood pooled, quickly coating her palm. She fumbled with the pistol, the sticky slick redness causing the gun to slip in her grasp.

Masks moved closer and closer, coming out of hiding, marching straight towards them, the barrage of bullets never ceasing.

Raelle dipped down, grimacing as bullets rained down on them. A wretched storm with a hail of hot metal and thunderous screams. 

Scylla’s singing snapped.

The world seemed to stand still.

Then.

The body exploded.

A huge blast of energy erupted from the corpse, a wave of pure power hurtling into the sky and into the crowd.

Camarilla flew back, ripping through the sky, the blast launching them back.

The bullets stopped.

“Go!” Scylla pushed to her feet.

Raelle jumped up, pointing her gun at the dazed hunters as they sprinted to the stable, firing off random shots as they dove through the wide doors.

The scent of straw was strong as rows of closed stalls greeted them.

Scylla's head swiveled around.

What did they do? How did they pick? 

Raelle let out a loud whistle, “Animikii!”

A loud snort responded, and a beautiful tan coated filly reared back, head visible above the stalls. 

Raelle ran up to her, quickly opening the stall door.

She frowned.

“The hell they got ya in yer saddle for?” Raelle stared at the horse, the saddle and bit that should have been off to let the horse rest still in place. "That boy not take care of ya?"

“Raelle?”

Shaking her head, Raelle grabbed the reigns and guided the horse out of the stall, “Git on.”

Scylla jogged over, casting a quick glance at the blonde before climbing up, Raelle’s hand at her back helping her. 

“Wha’ the hell was tha’?” Raelle asked as she pulled herself up, settling in behind Scylla.

“Seed 81.”

A scoff, “Guess’n that’s why ya necros don’t use guns.”

Shouting rose up outside the stable.

“A witch doing Work instead of relying on civilian inventions. What a concept.” Scylla threw back.

“Hang on.” Raelle steered the horse around and sent a swift nudge to her flanks. 

Scylla grabbed at the horse's mane as arms wrapped around her.

The horse bolted out of the stable.

The two bent over as the horse galloped through the town, voices crying out and flames waving at them.

Shots fired into the air.

Buildings, the Saloon, burned to the ground.

Raelle drove the horse faster.

They didn’t slow down until the town was nothing but a memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for sticking around and checking out this latest chapter. Virtual hug to all those reading. Virtual hug and a kudos to those who read and leave a kudos. Virtual hug, a kudos, and a round of thankful applause to those who read and leave a comment.


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